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theoldsports · 2 days

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SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #sorry series #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig

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midastouch013 · 1 day

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Scars and All

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have been dating for almost a year, and so what happens when you finally find out why things never get steamy

Warnings: Insecurity, Scars, Flashbacks of Redroom. Super soft Nat.

---

You and Natasha had been dating for close to a year now, having moved in a month ago to the floor Tony had given the both of you happy to see his, and you quote ' favourite spider' so in love, and though your relationship was incredible in so many ways, there was one aspect that sometimes caused a bit of frustration. Every time things got a little bit steamy, Natasha would freeze up. And every time it left you confused, more than before with every occurrence.

It happened again tonight. You were tangled up in each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss, hands exploring, when Natasha suddenly pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, your heart pounding. You were frustrated, sure, but you respected Natasha enough to honor her wishes. With a heavy sigh, you pulled away, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice.

She nodded, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… not feeling it right now."

You couldn't help but feel disappointed, but you didn't want to show it. Instead, you forced a small smile and said, "Okay. I'm just gonna… take a cold shower then."

Without waiting for a response, you got up and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Natasha alone on the bed.

The cold water did little to wash away your disappointment. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration, unable to understand why Natasha kept pulling away.

After what felt like an eternity under the icy spray, you finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As you dried off and got dressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Natasha lost in her own world, her eyes unfocused as she begged someone she had only told you about once, Madame B, not to hit her.

Your heart broke at the sight. You knew Natasha was reliving a moment from her past, a nightmare from her time in the Red Room. Without a second thought, you crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight hug, hoping to ground her in the present, having it done many times previously.

"Nat, it's me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're with me."

Slowly, Natasha's breathing began to steady, and the tension in her body started to ease. She clung to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck as she struggled to break free from the memories that haunted her.

You held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance until she finally began to relax in your arms.

After Natasha falls asleep in your arms, you gently tuck her under the covers, making sure she's comfortable. With a lingering glance, you quietly slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You make your way downstairs and pull out your phone, dialing Yelena's number. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she says, her voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to explain what just happened with Natasha.

"Not really," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Nat had a flashback… to the Red Room, I think."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Yelena speaks again. "Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping," you reply. "But… I don't know what to do, Yelena. Every time things start to get… intimate, she freezes up. I can't shake the feeling that it's connected somehow."

There's a thoughtful silence before Yelena speaks again. "Does my sestra shower with the door closed?"

You frown, confused by the seemingly random question. "Uh, yeah, she does. Why?"

Yelena hums thoughtfully. "And does she ever… mention anything about about her post-missions "

Your heart skips a beat as the pieces start to click into place. "No, she doesn't even let me see her till she's in pajamas. Why?"

Yelena lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I think… Y/n, you're pretty smart, so I'm surprised I have to be telling you this, but my sister is insecure about something. And maybe, just maybe, that's why she keeps pulling away."

"But what insecurity?" you question," She-"

Before you can say anything else, Yelena interrupts you. "Sorry, I have to go. Kate's calling me. Just… be there for her, okay? She needs you."

After Yelena hangs up, more incidents with Natasha flash through your mind. Little moments that, when looked at together, begin to form a pattern. And suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Natasha's insecurity is about her scars.

Just as you're connecting the dots, Natasha comes downstairs to grab something to eat. Wordlessly, you grab her by the hips and lift her up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals, trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

Ignoring her protests, you carry her back upstairs to your room. Once there, you gently set her down on the edge of the bed, ignoring her playful protests.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You don't answer right away. Instead, you kneel down on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"Tasha, I love you," you begin, your voice steady. "And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know… I know that something happened tonight, something that triggered a flashback. And I think… I think I know what it is."

Natasha's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she looks like she might bolt. But then she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, squeezing her hands gently while taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. "Natasha, do you not like your scars?" you ask gently.

Natasha's defenses go up immediately, and she tries to deflect the situation with humor. "What, these old things?" she says, gesturing to her scars with a forced smirk. "Just battle wounds, nothing to worry about."

But you're firm in your resolve. You don't let her deflect this time. "Nat, please," you say, your voice pleading. "I need you to be honest with me."

She sighs, the forced smile slipping from her face. "Fine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you want the truth? I hate them, okay? I hate the way they look. I hate what they remind me of."

Your heart breaks at her words, but you keep your voice steady. "Why, Nat? Why do you hate them so much?"

And then she confesses, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid that when you see them, you'll finally realize that you're dating a monster. A cold-blooded murderer. I'm afraid that you'll look at me and see nothing but a killer. And I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm afraid that these scars will scare you away. That I don't look… sexy with my scars and all."

Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and you feel your heart breaking all over again.

You feel a surge of anger and hurt at Natasha's admission. How could she think of herself like that? And how could she think that you would ever see her that way?

"You really think that?" you say, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. "That I would see you like that? That I would ever think of you as a monster? God, Natasha, how could you even think that?"

Natasha flinches at your words, and for a moment, you regret the harshness of your tone. But then you take a deep breath and soften your voice.

"I'm sorry, It wasn't supposed to sound so rude, but… I get it, Nat," you continue, your voice gentle now. "I get that you're scared. And I understand why you feel that way. Even if I've not been through what you've been through, I'd like to think that I get it. But you need to know that I love you, scars and all. And I would never, ever think of you as anything less than amazing."

You feel Natasha's arms tighten around you, and you know that she's listening, really listening, to what you're saying.

"And another thing," you add, your voice firm now. "You need to stop calling yourself those hateful things. You are not a monster, Natasha. You are not a cold-blooded murderer. You are a hero, you are the role model to millions of kids out there, and you're my girlfriend. There's no way in hell could you be what you claim to be. Don't you ever forget that."

Natasha doesn't say anything in response, and for a moment, you worry that you've pushed her too far. But then she pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for… for loving me, scars and all."

You shush her with a gentle finger to her lips. " What have I told you about that?" you ask in a tutting tone.

She chuckled breathily, a faint smile on her face " Never thank you unless I don't want dinner that night"

You look into Natasha's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and reassurance. Without saying a word, you lift her (Well yours, but anything that was yours was hers) t-shirt and leant in to press a gentle kiss to one of her scars, then another, and another, until you'd kissed each one.

Each kiss is an act of reassurance, a silent declaration of how beautiful and attractive you find her scars. And with each kiss, you feel Natasha's tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

When you finally pull back, Natasha is looking at you with tear-filled eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I love you" she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

" I love you more"

"Willing to bet on it?"

#avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #anon ask #anonymous #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #natasha x y/n #natasha marvel #yelena and natasha

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 2 days

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my heart over yours; part five | j.fleming x reader

prompt: jessie and you finally stop being oblivious idiots. finally getting together.

author notes: this series is finally coming to an end, this feels weird 😭 i had so much fun writing this actually. so enjoy all this fluff as a ty for all the love this series got 🩷

contains: ucla!jessie x reader, childhood bestie!jessie, lesbians that stopped being oblivious, so much fluff, jeff and reader are certified lover girls™, small time jump but i swear it's nothing crazy like they aren't married, chelsea!jessie x reader, covid doesn't fcking exist in this thank god 🙏🏾

credit to @/glimmerofawesome for the gif 😝🙏🏾

masterlist to the previous parts

playing best part by daniel caesar & h.e.r 🎵

"you taste like cheap liquor," is the first thing jessie says when she pulls away. it quickly changes the mood from semi-romantic to playful. you laugh loudly, unable to control your volume with the alcohol still in your system. good thing the party was still going strong and the music was still blasting so loud you're sure that someone could fall down the stairs and nobody would notice.

the canadian doesn't go too far when she pulls away, still holding onto you. partially because she wants to be close to you after everything that happened and also partially because the alcohol was really starting to get to you so you weren't able to stand that well on your own.

"you're supposed to say something way more romantic after a kiss, freckles," you say, moving your hand to cup one side of her face. she leans into your touch, giving you a smug smile. "you still tasted good though."

"gross! that's even less romantic than the last thing you said," you laugh loudly again. stumbling bit but jessie holds onto you so that you don't fall. you pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her waist with your face against her shoulder; suddenly feeling very tired.

"it's not gross, it's true," jessie laughs at your clinginess. drunk you weren't as messy as she thought, it's actually a really cute sight. "let's get you home," the canadian decides against going back through the party. not wanting to deal with having to push her way through a bunch of drunken people and a house that smells of a combination of sweat, alcohol, and cologne & perfume. she pulls you towards the front of the house by going through the small path that goes from the backyard to the front. quick to hold you by the waist with one of her arms, using her free hand to text hallie to come out so you all could go.

in the back of your mind is gabriela. you are sure she is somewhere in the house drunk making out with some girl, not even thinking about you. leaving without saying anything felt wrong but you just remind yourself to text her in the morning. even though you will probably be fighting off a bad hangover.

it takes ten minutes that felt like pure seconds in your drunken haze for hallie to come out. when you see her, you stumble out of jessie's arms and into hallie's. the blonde is a close friend to jessie since they both play for the ucla soccer team, so obviously you are quite close to her as well. it's only natural when jessie and you are that attached.

"hii halls," you giggle as hallie catches you. she giggles right alongside you, pulling you towards the car. jessie is following close behind. "i'm a cough medicine now?" the tall girl gives you a funny look that makes you giggle again. the alcohol was really starting to get to your brain. you don't reply, just smiling at her. once jessie reaches the car she opens the backseat for hallie to lead you into. after that's done, instead of sitting in the passenger seat like she had on the way here, the canadian sits in the backseat with you. claiming she had to make sure you didn't puke all over hallie's seats which wasn't entirely a lie. puking all over the blonde's white seats wouldn't have been a pretty sight, but also jessie just wanted to stay close to you. especially with you being so vulnerable. she has hardly seen you drunk before; only once or twice when jessie would bring beer for you two to try into the dorm.

"this tastes like piss," you would say after the first sips. coughing in a dramatic way to prove your point. then of course like always, jessie would find a way to tease you and say, "how do you know what piss tastes like?" then you two would burst out laughing. pouring the beer down the drain in the bathroom before going out and getting slushies.

jessie is taken out of her reminiscing by you slamming into her side. wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning your head against her shoulder.

"why don't you have a seatbelt on..?" jessie frowns, her eyes glancing down at your waist. you don't answer her. just letting out a soft sigh. the soccer player chuckles before snapping you into the middle seatbelt. the short dress you have put on has been riding up since earlier, but jessie somehow didn't notice. she pulls it down as much as she can; ever a gentle-woman.

the ride isn't long, with jessie and hallie talking quietly so you wouldn't wake up. even though jessie doubts you would awake at anything. she won't tell you, but you did snore a bit. just quiet, light ones. nothing crazy. she'll eventually tease you about later when you don't even expect it, but for now she'll leave you alone.

getting you from the car to the dorm once you three arrived on campus wasn't hard. you were half asleep, so you just let jessie and hallie drag you along; from hallie's parking spot to the dorm building then up the stairs and finally into jessie and yours actual dorm. hallie gently sits you down on jessie's bed before sighing, "that's enough chasing after drunk women for one night. good night."

"good night. hopefully you don't fail your exam in the morning," jessie says, it's more of a tease, as the blonde leaves out of the room. hallie lets out a sarcastic laugh before shaking her head, "whatever. don't let your girl throw up all over your sheets."

the implication of you being her girl, jessie's girl makes the freckled girl blush slightly. shutting the door behind hallie so that the blonde wouldn't tease her about the sight of her slightly redden cheeks. the taller soccer player would tease her about it anyways, knowing how her friend already is, but nevertheless.

jessie turns to focus her attention on you. she walks over to her bed where you're snuggling with her pillow. she lets out a small chuckle at the sight. were you always this cute? jessie decides in her mind that yeah you always been this cute. she just never wanted to admit it.

"y/n.. get up, so you can change," she mumbles softly. leaning in close to look at your sleeping face. the word babe almost slips out of her mouth, but she doesn't know if it's the right time. she's been wanting to call you that for a while now, jessie didn't really get why the urge was so strong but it was, and it has slipped out a few times, but you always just accepted it. teasing her by calling her some overly sweet petname back. you didn't notice the light blush on her cheeks back then or maybe you did and never said anything.

your eyes open but slowly you close them back, shifting so you can get more comfortable. jessie smiles but don't let you go back to sleep so easily. pulling you up until you're sitting up. a pout sits on your lips, "jess.. no.. i'll sleep in this."

"you won't be comfortable and will complain in the morning," she says. you would smile at how she knows you so well, but the sleepiness is really getting to you. "help me..?" you ask softly. the canadian doesn't even flinch at your request; she would always help out alongside your mom whenever you were sick, so she helped you change a few times before. she moves away from you to go over to the dresser, grabbing out one of her t-shirts. coming back over to you.

you're laying down again. jessie just pulls you up again and talks enough that you are now half asleep. sluggishly moving so she can help you take off your heels then your dress and finally slip the t-shirt over your head so that you can put your arms through the arm holes. now you can comfortably lay back down, snuggling up to jessie's pillow again. however you whine at the fact it doesn't have any warmth or a pulse.

"jess... where are you?" the words come out of your mouth. jessie stays silent for a moment, too busy changing after you laid down.

"just making sure you don't wake up with a horrible hangover tomorrow." she finishes with changing quickly. wearing one of your tank tops, having slipped off her pants to leave only her boxers. she grabs a waterbottle off of the dress before coming back over to the bed for you. it's room temperature but it's not like she's going to leave out of the dorm to get you a cold water. it's obvious you want her near you and obviously she's going to listen to you. again she pulls you up, holding you up with her free hand as she sits on the bed. shifting so that your back is resting against her chest. you whine, leaning into her.

"drink something. i bet you only drunk alcohol," she says. opening the bottle before handing it to you.

"not true. i'm a responsible eighteen year old," you say. she chuckles, just nodding even though she doesn't really believe that you weren't just drinking alcohol all night. despite your words you still drink the water. almost dropping it out of tiredness, but jessie keeps your hand steady by holding onto your wrist. once you're done she takes the water from you, puts on the cap, and sets it aside on the window still next to her bed.

when you realize the water is out of your hand you try to lay back down in a quite awkward position as your waist lays on one of jessie's legs. she smiles at your cuteness, deciding to help you out as she moves around slightly so that your back is meeting her front again but this time you two are laying down. her arms hug your waist. the feeling must be comforting because you let out a soft hum of content. then just like that you drift off to sleep.

meanwhile jessie is laying there with her face against the back of your head, thinking.

thinking about what happened out there on that patio earlier. how you confessed, or is more like admitted since everyone else knew all along, your feelings for you. how she confessed her feelings for you. this wasn't nothing new, for jessie, at least.

jessie realized her feelings earlier than you did. around the time you told her that you got accepted into ucla. the fact you would choose the same college as her and upend your entire life to go to a country you have never lived in for jessie (mostly) touched her heart. you have given up soccer, so you weren't going to further your career. you never showed much interest or really any at all in heading to america before jessie said she chose ucla. it was for her.

of course, jessie is not someone who is ego centric. your choice to come to america wasn't entirely for her, but she's sure she played a big part. is it wrong to think this? the soccer player doesn't dwell on whether her thinking is right or wrong, as she slowly drifts off to sleep right alongside your already deep in sleep figure.

an entire week passes before you two talk about what happened. it wasn't like you guys were ignoring it, but life got in the way. your schedule was packed with classes and jessie was splitting her time between classes & the gym so she could stay in shape. you would always come home, exhausted, to an already changed jessie snacking on a huge bag of chips and she would always invite you to join her. with you two falling asleep right after whatever show jessie is watching is over, sometimes before.

it's sunday afternoon when jessie asks you about it. you're in the bathroom, trying to do your hair so you can go out and get some ice cream. she comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. making sure to not put too much weight on your back so that you can continue to do your hair comfortably.

"so.." her hand plays with the bottom of your shirt, "you said you love me. that you're in love with me."

your movements stop for a moment as you meet her eyes through the mirror. then you continue, allowing her to speak on.

"do you want to go on our first date as girlfriends?" jessie asks. hearing the word girlfriend leave her mouth makes you smile. oh yeah, you two technically are dating now. you didn't think about that part when you confessed. "you didn't even say the can i be your girlfriend part though," you tease.

that makes jessie chuckle. she pulls your hands away from your hair to turn you. now she is pressing you against the counter, her front touching yours. you smile, your eyes tracing the freckles scattered across her face.

"look me in my eyes," the soccer player uses her hand to hold onto your chin in a gentle grip. you don't want to look away once you two's eyes meet. you would drown in that gorgeous brown of her iris if you could. "i'm looking," you whisper out into the small space between you two.

"can i be your girlfriend?" she asks, leaning in close so that her lips almost meet yours. almost.

and you giggle. you fucking giggle right against her lips. mostly because your heart feels like it's going to burst and also because you can never take jessie too seriously. she is still your bestfriend at the end of the day after all. now she's also your girlfriend. the feeling of you laughing against her lips makes jessie giggles too. then your laugh is muffled as she closes that small gap and kisses you.

the kiss isn't really sudden, but you giggle even more. smiling so hard into the kiss, your hands scramble to grip onto her shirt. her hands are cupping your face.

and she's pressing and pressing against you and her lips are so soft against yours and she tastes like that stupid strawberry gum she was chewing earlier and she's so warm, so fucking warm you feel like you are burning and you never want this to end to end and dear god.

why haven't you done this before?

you are the first to pull away if you can even call it that when your body feels like it's about to become apart of the sink. your tongue peeks out to lick your lips. you can still taste jessie on your tongue.

the canadian is obviously waiting for some words from you as she just stares at you, panting slightly from all that oxygen is lost while eating your face.

you giggle, leaning in close to peck the tip of her nose.

"yes, you can be my girlfriend. can i be your girlfriend?"

"you can be whatever the fuck you want to me," jessie says. she doesn't add that you can do whatever you want to me too part, but you can feel it's there. you know it's there; because you know jessie like the back of your hand, like the air you breathe, like the studies you spend countless hours on. you know jessie like she's apart of your soul.

she is apart of your soul.

jessie moves away from you to leave out of the bathroom much to your dismay. a pout sits on your lips as you watch her, but you don't chase after her. turning to go back to doing your hair. she comes back into the room after a few minutes, changed into some cargo shorts and a compression shirt that definitely not hers but you don't say anything. your eyes lingering on the way the shirt hugs her body longer than they should.

"so back to that date. let's go right now?" she leans against the doorframe. "right now? i'm not even dressed," you say. of course it's bluff you are going to say yes anyway.

"yeah, yeah. hurry so we can go," jessie smiles at you. it's warm and adorable and you hate yourself for giggling at the cuteness of it. actually, scratch that. you don't hate yourself for that, why wouldn't you find it absolutely adorable?

it takes a little while but you get ready eventually and you two head off to get some ice cream. walking around a park near the ucla campus, just talking and playing around on the swings like the children you really are.

then you two went to a vietnamese restaurant. one you been wanting to go to, but again college was taking up most of your time. the pho was delicious and so was the duck soup, that was jessie's favorite actually. you two filled up on that flavorful food before slowly making your way to the beach.

the sun is setting and you're sure the beach is most likely closed, but you don't really care.

"wanna go for a swim?" jessie asks you as she starts to take off her shorts. you laugh at how quick she is to take them off. "skinny dipping?"

the freckled girl looks at you with a blank look. "no, what. someone could see us," she says. you already know jessie is pretty shy and would definitely not like someone else other than you or her family seeing her with a lack of clothing. she continues to slip off her clothes, leaving her in just her nike pros and sports bra.

you follow suit, it is hot in california after all. taking off your shirt but leaving on your shorts. jessie gives you a questioning look.

"what? i don't have on any boxers or whatever like you do. i would look like i'm running around the beach with no clothes on really," you shrug off her confusion. grabbing onto her hand before running and dragging her along with you to the ocean. she laughs loudly and yelps when the waves first hit her legs.

"why is it cold? this is la!" jessie shouts even though she doesn't need to. there is no one else around and the waves aren't that loud.

"i don't know, but guess what?"

"what..?"

the small smirk on your face makes jessie want to back away from you and run because she can already tell you're about to do something extremely mischievous but she isn't able to when you pull her down with you into the room.

she lets out a really loud shout of surprise before the sound is gone as her body goes under water. you two look at each other underwater, smiling. this scene feels nostalgic. reminds you of those summers when your parents and her parents would go camp by the lake, squished between right after the summer soccer season ended and before school started. you didn't realize how little time that was back then, it felt like forever, but now you do.

the moment elysse was put down for her nap or was too tired to swim, jessie and you would run off a little bit along the lake shore. she would dare you to jump in first, but of course you would refuse, not wanting to go alone so you two would hold hands and jump in together.

back to right now, jessie and you play around in the water for a long while. even though it was pretty cold, as cold as it can be in la.

then you two are laying on the beach and her hand is touching yours and you swear the sand is sticking to your skin and you are freezing but still a smile sits on your face because somehow jessie is still warm. she's always warm.

"i think you're so gorgeous," jessie whispers out into the comfortable silence between you two. you turn your body to look at her fully, she's smiling.

you about to speak but she cuts you off by saying, "wait. i don't think, i know you are so gorgeous. i think you are pretty like the moon with the personality of the sun and if i wasn't already in love with you, i would have fallen in love right now at this moment."

and you don't know what to say to that. curse jessie for being so good with her words; but one thing you do know is how to show your appreciation and so you kiss her. your hands trailing on her half dry half wet body. the mix of the warmth of her skin and the coolness of the sand feels so good under your touch.

you curse the human body for needing to breathe when jessie pulls away.

"i think you're so gorgeous too," you whisper to her and you think you just might marry jessie as she gives you one of those shy grins of hers.

jessie graduates a year before you do. when she walked across the stage, you were probably the loudest in the room alongside her family and yours. the embarrassed blush on her cheeks makes her mother tease endlessly as you all head to dinner to celebrate the end of her college soccer career and just college in general.

"look at you, all grown up," your mother says to jessie outside of the restaurant after you all have eaten. she pecks the freckled face of the canadian, talking more and more about how she watched jessie grow up to be a beautiful young woman. jessie blushes throughout most of it and you fight the urge to tell your mom to stop being so embarrassing, but you let her have this.

after a long conversation with jessie's parents, you and jessie go to get in your car. you wave at your mother as jessie drives off. you're certain the two pairs of parents will be having a great time in la while jessie and you go back to you guys dorm. well, it's more of your dorm now.

"maybe i can go fishing with your dad one of these days, like this summer?" jessie says, giving you a glance. you give her a confused look before giggling, "why would you go fishing?"

"because your dad was talking about it and seemed so interested." she returns your confused look. why were you laughing?

"my dad is 'interested' in a thousand things. you know how indecisive he is."

"ohh. so just like his daughter?"

"jessie!"

the next two days were spent finishing up jessie's packing. she have opted out of the nwsl draft after getting having chelsea knocking at her door and you get it. the thought of long distance this early in your relationship feels like the key to trouble, but you already know you two will be alright. when jessie moved to vancouver in highschool you were devastated, but you lived on and still were so close to her. you can definitely survive this.

"hopefully your little superstar rookie soccer stuff doesn't get in the way of you coming to my graduation next year," you say, taping up the last box filled with jessie's things. she rolls her eyes at you being so over dramatic.

she smiles, coming over to you, "i swear it won't. i'll make the trip."

"promise? if you don't pinky promise then i don't trust it." you hold out your pinky finger. she links hers with yours, shaking your linked fingers for good measure.

she uses that connection to pull you into a hug. then she pecks your lips; once, twice, another, and another. "i would kiss you for how many days we will be apart but we would be here forever," she says.

"hm, when i come over to england then you can give me all the kisses you want," you say back. giving her another peck before pulling away from her to go sit on her now bare mattress. so memories here in this room now just stuffed into a box and ready to be shipped miles away.

jessie follows you, laying beside you. she cuddles up to her but stays silent and you do too. so you two just lay there in comfortable silence. counting down the minutes until you have to drop jessie off at the airport.

and when that time comes, you almost want to cry but you don't. you save that for later when jessie is already on the plane, flying away to her new life that you will join soon. just one more year and you'll be there in england with her. it isn't so bad to spend a year apart; at least that's what you try to tell yourself. jessie was pretty distracting with her cute smile and soothing voice and soft hair and stupidly annoying jokes. is that really a pro of this long distance situation? doesn't seem like it.

you spend the next year working hard on your studies, so you can graduate on time. jessie and you don't get to see each other as much as you want to with her being so busy and you being so busy, but it's okay because you two sit on facetime for half of the day anyways. even with the time difference.

the day she comes back to ucla for your graduation, alongside your parents and hers, you nearly cry. no, you do cry,

because your family is there and jessie's family is there and jessie is there and you feel so surrounded with love that you think you might suffocate. jessie kisses you at the end of the night after showing you the video of her shouting for you as you walked across the stage. "you know i'm proud of you, right?" she whispered against your lips as she held you. "i know," you whispered back. you could see in the way her eyes shined as she stared at you. you could see in how she held you so gently. you could see with how she spoke about you.

yeah, you know jessie is proud of you.

the first time you come to a chelsea game wearing her jersey and screaming her name as she played the best ninety minutes that jessie swears she ever played in her entire life, she becomes certain on one thing;

jessie is going to marry you.

author notes: and that's the end of this series 💔💔 the ending is a little rushed but i love so i hope you guys love it too! i'm going to be writing and posting a lot since summer is close so like keep your eye out for my work. ty for all the support like fr 💗

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #woso x reader #woso fluff #woso fanfics

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iiseor · 2 days

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drunk confessions | E.W

inspired by sincerely, noceur on youtube — cw: alcohol, jail, no use of y/n, unedited btw . . . probs my longest fic in a while. Sarah = readers sister.

You and sarah had grown up pretty close. It was always the two of you . . and well, ellie. The two were two grades above you and always had to leave you behind when it came to rites of passages. Despite the obvious distance, you three stayed closer than ever.

att least . . up until now. over the last few years you came to terms with your insane obsession with ellie. You knew it was wrong, forbidden if anything. Your sister and her were always a duo within the trio, but you couldn't help but fall for ellie the more you were around her. And as you all grew older, so did ellie's appearance. . so did your attraction to her . .

when the reality that you'd probably never get to have her struck, so did a change in your behaviour. You, a junior in college, the two of them off and into the real world, and the three of you left disconnected. It wasn't their fault though in all honesty, you had been the one to distrance yourself from your older sister and avoid ellie all together. Yes you and sarah still lived with your parents, and yes ellie was always around — but when it came to finishing up your last years of college, you switched your lifestyle completely, making it easier to avoid them with how busy you were.

Though . . You weren't busy in the way they thought. So when your older sister got a call saying you were in jail and needed someone to bail you out — the shock that ran through her veins was bold. Let's just say the shock ellie got when sarah called and asked her to pick you up so your sister could distract your parents — was twice the size of your sisters.

"I'm here to pick up (_)" the brown haired girl told the lady signing papers at the front desk as she walked in. "hm.. the one with the big group of idiots that came in .... two hours ago?" The lady responded, ellie laughed. "Have any others named (_) in that cell?" She replied, the lady looked at her with an annoyed expression. "Sorry.. not funny, um- I'll just take her and go..." ellie added changing her tone.

"(_) you're free to go" the gaurd said as he guided you towards the exit. "Hey you..." ellie said looking you up and down — your dress torn from attempting to hide in bushes, your hair just as messed up. "Let's go" she added placing her hand on your lower back and walking you out of the building. "Fun night huh?" She questioned, you immediately pausing to face her and apologize — rambling through your sentences. "Woah.. relax doll I'm only here to pick you up .. let's save the apologies for your sister yea?" she interrupted.

"My sister ... why isn't she here??" You questioned and ellie laughed, "she's trying to save your ass, making sure your parents don't find out where you are right now... though, in my experience... they'll find out some how". You sighed, running your hands through your hair. "But .. we're here for a reason, you can at least try to hide the fact your drunk for tonight" she added and you looked at her wide eyed "I'm not drunk!" You protested — "yea.. okay, sure, lets finish this conversation in the car yea?" She responded dragging you towards the parking lot, "and please ... please don't throw up in my car ... pretty please" she said and you scoffed, "I'm not drunk" you said under your breathe — ellie pretending not to hear as she opened the door for you and put on your seat belt. "I know how to do that..." you said trying not to look at her as she leaned over you, "hm not so sure about that flower" she chuckled softly shutting the door and walking around to get in on the other side.

You tugged at your heels, sighing at the relieved pain once they were halfway released off of your feet. "Let's get out of here" ellie said starting up the car. The ride was silent for a while, you leaned towards the window and watched as the street lights flickered throughout the dark streets.

"You know what I don't understand?" ellie broke the silence, "me and your sister taught you what to never do if you got caught by the police in some stupid situation like this one" you looked at her as she replied to herself. "So how in the world did you end up in jail? I mean. . surly you're smarter than that?" She added, you sighed again before responding. "It's not like I did it on purpose . . I didn't see them coming" you said with your tone drowsy. "So you ran the wrong way?" She laughed louder this time.

"It's not funny els. ." you said and she rolled her eyes. "I'm the one who woke up at 3am to come and bail you out of this shit. . I think I get to laugh, and it's really funny" she said laughing as she shook her head. You pouted and sunk into your seat as ellie caught a glance of you, "but. . I'm glad you're okay, and I'm glad I'm the one who picked you up" she added and you turned away attempting to hide your blush. "I know you'll hear worse from your sister when we get you home . . but tonight could have gone wayyyy worse than it did. And I know you're smarter than that and all that other stuff or whatever but. . . believe it or not we do care about you, especially your sister. . and we do kindddda know a bit more than you. so please, don't be mad at me, or at least not at your sister. We've done the same shit before, and if I recall correctly you were the one snitched on us a few times so be greatful we're covering your ass" she laughed off the last sentence and looked over at you as she stopped for the red light. "Okay? It'll suck now but I'm a few years it'll be a joke to everyone so. . Thank your sister for keeping your parents from tracking you down right now" she added again. "My parents?" Was what you responded to all of this, "yup" she quickly told, "they're up right now's probably listening to her ramble on about how you wanted to get ice cream but she didn't want to go so instead I went with you". You laughed at the excuse they came up with and ellie smiled back "yea I guess it's kinda silly but hey . . All the snacks and sugar and shit should overpower the alcohol so, let's just do as your sister said okay?" You sighed once again, "okay".

"I'm gonna run in and grab whatever ice cream I can find, stay here okay?" She said unbuckling her seatbelt, you lifted yourself up from your slouching. "But I wanna come. . It's dark" you said with a saddened tone, ellie chucked to herself "please (_), just stay here I'll be quick I promise" she responded, you pouted slouching back down into your seat. "Thank you . . okay. . " she replied pausing. "Oh, and eat the snacks in the glove compartment, we need all the sugar we can possibly get into you" she added and you watched her close the door and disappear into the store. Sighing to yourself for the seventeenth time, you layed your head back on the seat slightly closing your eyes trying to minimize your headache before doing as she told you to. You opened the snacks left and ate whatever was there until she came back.

"Okay! I got five flavours.. hopefully this is enough" she said sitting back into the car and handing you a bag with small ice cream containers inside. "Look at me" she said once buckled in, and you obeyed. "You still look drunk . . this isn't working. . . " "here" she added handing you a spoon, "eat some more and drink water, we'll stay out for a bit longer but then we have to get back . . . at least until the ice cream has melted a bit so your parents won't catch onto the lies" she spoke and you knodded taking the ice cream spoon into your hand and beginning to eat, ellie doing the same.

"so. ." ellie broke the silence again after the two of you sat and ate for a few minutes. "What made you do this? I mean, I'm not blaming you for getting arrested. . even tho it was kinda your fault but I mean, since when do you go to parties ? Last time I remember you said parties we're stupid" she questioned. "Idk" you said and ellie laughed, "really? 'Idk' is all you got?" She shook her head and you pouted again, ellie being the one to sigh this time. "You know you can talk to me . . . If there's something going on right?" She said looking at you, your eyes focused on the ice cream below. "I know. . ." You dragged the words out a bit longer than usual, though you weren't drunk. "Are you positive you know? Because we barely talk anymore (_). . ." You didn't respond so she continued. "It feels like you're avoiding me or something, within the last year we've only spoken a few words to eachother up until now . . You know we all used to be friends right? Not just me and sarah" you poked your ice cream as her words circled your brain, "It kinda feels like idk you anymore (_), i mean you even look different now with the way you dress. . and wear makeup . . besides the point, i just mean i liked hanging out with you and all but then like . . All the sudden you're so busy and . . . well now here we are" Ellie's words went lower towards the end of her sentence causing you to look at her with worry.

"I really am just busy els" you responded, ellie smiled at you in response. "Yea I know sweetheart I get it . . I get it" she sighed, "but I just want you to tell me if somethings going on. . . you would? right?" You laughed "you're so paranoid" you replied and she laughed with you, "I am not, I just want to make sure you're okay" she protested.

"well. . .there is something I wanted to tell you" you trailed on and she looked at you in confusion. "oh? what is it then?" She inquired. "I . . I think I love you or something . . like more than friends" you tried to stop your words but a sudden shift came over you before you could hold back. Ellie looked over at you, now reciprocating the same wide eyes you gave her earlier. "I think you've had way to much to drink, this ice cream clearly isn't working" she chuckled awkwardly caught off gaurd. "I'm seriously ellie-" you tried to add on but she interrupted, "you're not sober, it's the alcohol talking" she told and you sighed again. "Drunk words are sober thoughts . . ." You said just above the whisper causing her to chuckle again.

"Now you're smart?" She said through her smirk, "I-I guess you're right flower and trust me, I'm flattered . .but this isn't a conversation we should be having while you're like this. ." She rambled on, you watched her through every word. "you don't like me back . . ?" was all you got out in response, ellie pouted at your sad expression, caressing your face. "I didn't say that . . but I'm not going to answer that right now either while you're not sober. . your minds not right (_)" she leaned back down to her seat, putting a lid on her ice cream. "did I make it weird by saying that. . this is probably annoying you" you asked her doing the same with your ice cream. "Oh please baby you think I'd ruin my 8 hours of beauty sleep if I found you annoying? It was hard enough pretending to scold you over all of this in the first place" her response made your expression change quick, now the two of you had been smiling.

the two of you sat in the silent car for a few more minutes, before you took the initive and broke the silence. "Els" you said softly. "Mhm" she responded laying back in her seat looking over at you. "Would you like me back . . . If i was sober, would you tell me you like me?" You said, your own words confusing you as they came out, ellie chuckled again. "Idk (_), would I?" she replied and you looked over at her, locking eyes for a few minutes before she fixed her posture and started the car. "We should head back now, your sisters probably pissed at me by now. . and plus half the ice cream has melted so our bribe to your parents is out the door".

you frowned at ellies words, "can't we stay a bit longer . . I still feel drunk" you whined, ellie put both of your ice creams back into the bag and laughed at your words once again. "thought you weren't drunk?" She tilted her head sarcastically and you rolled your eyes. "we need to go. ." she patted your head and got the car ready to leave. "But I still have more to tell you. ." You said once again catching yourself off gaurd. "Okay, what is soooo important that you're willing to risk your sister going off on both of us when we walk into your house?" She joked and you looked towards her puppy-eye'd.

"kiss me ellie" you said in a whisper, obviously not expecting such a bold move, ellie chuckled again. "You're not sober baby" she said putting the cap on your opened water bottles and pushing the ice cream bag behind your seat, you frowned again at her response and slouched into your seat with your arms slightly crossed — causing ellie to laugh at you. "look . . Let's make a deal okay? if you can walk into your house and be as sober as you can possibly pretend to be and fool everyone into thinking you have never touched alcohol a day in your life — then i promise when you wake up in the morning, ill be there and we can talk about this without your sister being on the verge of killing us both" ellie made you laugh again and you knodded at her proposal, "okay".

"Think you can do it?" She questioned locking eyes with you again "positive" you smiled, "mm good girl, i believe in you" she said now pulling out of the parking lot, "and if you really convince them we just went to get ice cream. . I'll give you that kiss you wanted so bad yea?" she added onto her proposal and you looked out of your window trying to hide your flustered face as your stomach tingled. "We got a deal?" ellie asked removing one of her hands from the steering wheel to tap your cheek.

"deal" you responded smiling (giggling and kicking your feet inside of your head) as ellie drove towards your street, sarah sat outside on the steps waiting for the two of you with irritated eyes.

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sehodreams · 1 day

Text

cherry blossom scars

TW and tags: tattoo artist!Wonbin x insecure!reader, surgery scar, pierced nipples, nipple play, mutual masturbation, tons of overthinking and word vomiting, corny as hell, fluff, kind of dom reader but not much.

WC: 9.3k

Comment: hi guys, I made brief descriptions of the scar, to be honest, I don’t have one or ever had surgery, so I’m not exactly sure how one would look, I just saw a couple of pictures on the internet and wanted to write something about it, hope it’s okay. I didn’t sleep at all to finish it because I knew I’d leave it in a draft if I didn’t write it in one go. Probably has mistakes and inconsistencies. I don’t know anything about piercings, tattoos, or early education.

While growing up, as weird as it sounds, summer was your favourite season. You remember a lot of things about it, how your parents would drive to the coast to spend the day at the beach, playing in the water with the friend your parents had agreed to take with you, and eating the most boring sandwich your mother could make in a busy morning that felt like a feast in your mouth after swimming for hours.

It was all good, until you started to grow up. Your parents had no time to take you anymore, your friends had better things to do, and you had entered the phase of your life in which you hated the idea of wearing a swimsuit if you weren’t perfect.

Perfection is, as you thought after a particular summer, simply not you.

Perhaps your mother hadn’t said it with bad intentions, she was your mother after all, and you were sure she loved you, but that little phrase had impregnated your head like the gum on your head one of the boys in class thought it looked good smeared on your hair.

‘’I don’t think you should wear this blouse doll’’ she said, showing you her selection instead.

‘’Why? I like it, and it’s too hot to wear normal shirts’’ you replied, feeling your arms sweat just with the simple action of changing into the clothes you were wearing.

‘’It’s just… the scar is showing’’ she said, pointing at the line that went from the start of your shoulder to the middle of your chest.

It was a long line, thick, slightly red and purple, noticeable from the way it would get deeper into your smooth skin, surrounded with thin little lines that looked like roots expanding to grow. You were just fourteen, not thinking much of it; actually, not even thinking about it until she talked about it.

You spent the summer with short-sleeved shirts, leaving all the dresses with thin straps and anything that showed your cleavage behind. You could, never again, wear anything that did.

It didn’t matter how many creams your mother bought, or how many treatments in clinics you received, it stayed there with you, like a mark of how fragile your body was, and how easily you could break with a simple fall.

You had gotten hurt after biking with your friends and making a wrong turn. You fell with a strong thud, and you don’t remember much about what happened that day anymore, because when you were conscious again, you already had the scar there. Less to say your parents banned you from riding a bicycle ever again.

So, it’s not difficult to guess why you hate summer now. You can’t wear the clothes you want, you’re a broke college student living alone with no AC, and you have to walk everywhere with the fear of getting a heatstroke.

To your luck, or disgrace, today you run out of clean t-shirts acceptable for the weather, and you simply refuse to wear a long-sleeved one, resolving to grab one of the thin straps that you usually wear when you’re alone in your room.

You don’t think much about it. You’re going to your friend’s place, and she should have a shirt to lend you around there. Still, not even the thought makes the journey bearable.

You’re anxious in your seat, listening to some podcast you had found about old music (you don’t know if to call it old since it’s the 90s, but your friends didn’t even watch programs that weren’t from your century, so to avoid all explanation you simply say you like old music), when you feel weirdly observed.

Looking in front of you, a mother is carrying his child in her arms, who is looking intensely at you. You smile because the kid is cute. He has big eyes, almost black, and chubby cheeks. He must be at least four years old, and when you wave your hand to say hi, he points at your chest. You know what he’s pointing, and you nod as if you explained everything with that move.

When the mother turns at you, directing her eyes at what her son is watching, and sees you, she smiles and then her face falls, almost as abruptly as you did that day from your bicycle, and she apologizes for her son.

‘’He didn’t do anything’’ you say, and she denies it.

‘’He shouldn’t be looking at you like that’’ she answers.

‘’Why?’’ you ask.

‘’Because…’’ she can’t finish her sentence. You kind of know what she refers to. Because you’re hurt, and we can all see it. You almost want to correct the words she didn’t say because the kid doesn’t look at you as if you were a monster, he’s just curious, while she is the one doing it.

‘’He’s cute’’ you say instead.

‘’Thank you’’ she answers.

‘’Be careful when he grows up’’ you say. ‘’Because…’’

Because he could look like me it’s implied, and the mother looks at you horrified, as if you had just cursed his son. She quickly gets up and presses the button to get off the bus with such desperation you feel bad for having talked more than necessary.

When you go back to your own thing, you notice something weird again. You lift your eyes, finding the seat in front of you, in which the mother had been sitting just seconds before, empty, and a man beside you. When you meet his eyes he smiles at you, a big grin with no teeth, he’s obviously older than you, with lines of age on his face, normal looking, almost kind, and then, in front of your face, he moves his eyes down to your chest.

Great, now you didn’t have to deal with people staring at your scar, now you had to deal with old men staring at your tits too.

You feel so creeped out by it that you get up and press the button for the next stop. It’s not your stop, but now you can understand why the mother was so desperate to get off. A creep, as normal as they look, it’s still a creep.

Walking the streets at a fast pace, you try to arrive at your friend’s place as soon as possible. You feel even more observed, perhaps it’s because you’re almost running at 36oC and you’re sweating your ass off, but you think it’s because of your uncovered cleavage.

The minute you arrive you start telling your friend everything, from the cute kid to the disgusting man, and she tells you that people usually act dumb, doesn’t matter how you look, people are just people.

‘’It’s their nature, they’re programmed to act like fools, especially men’’ your friend says.

‘’Well, they’re fucking disgusting’’ you answer, grabbing one of her t-shirts and sliding into it to cover yourself like you usually do.

‘’Boys will be boys’’ she finishes, and then she rushes you to finally leave.

You have to go to a pool party (a private party he has clarified), and you honestly would’ve refused on any other occasion, but Sungchan, the owner of the house and your friend’s boyfriend, was cool enough to not force you to go in when you said you weren’t fond of swimming, nodding in understanding as if you had told him the entire story tale of your life, which was kind of comforting.

Also, since he lives with his parents, he has AC.

At the party, a couple of hours later, when almost everyone is outside enjoying the water, you’re left alone in charge of the snacks and drinks, mixing shit as if you knew what you were doing.

‘’Could I have some of that?’’ one of Sungchan’s friends asks, pointing at the jug you’re holding. You nod, you have no reason to say no, and when he takes a sip of it his eyebrow frowns for a second before he smiles. ‘’Wow, that’s… good.’’

You know it’s not, it’s just rum coke with too much rum and almost no limes, to which you decide to add a bit of sprite to see if it does the gig. It doesn’t, but it could punch anyone into not asking for more and you nod content at the result.

‘’Thanks, I should probably make a career of it’’ you answer.

He flashes you a smile before he grabs a can of Coke to sip it. ‘’Sure, if your goal is to hook more people into going to A.A meetings’’ he says while opening a bag of salt and vinegar chips. ‘’I’m Wonbin’’ he smiles.

You tell him your name and serve yourself a cup too. You try to secretly add more ice to your drink, and he laughs louder when he catches you feigning you were getting ice for the whole jug.

‘’I’ll be honest, I feel like I’ve seen you before’’ he says then.

‘’Well, we’re kind of connected through the couple there, perhaps we crossed each other’’ your finger directs at your friend over Sungchan’s shoulders, laughing and screaming something you can’t understand with the music on out there.

‘’True, but not only that… weren’t you last week at the tattoo shop right next to the bookstore that sells old books no one reads?’’ he takes a sip of the drink with more ice, and he denies, adding the rest of the can of coke he had opened.

‘’Do you mean the Rip Tree? I mean, it’s not Barnes and Noble, but it does the job. I got a nice copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray for four dollars there, and they gave me a bunch of bookmarks for free. Of course, they had the publicity of a nursing home in the back, but I’m sure it’s a completely respectable place to read books at’’ you answer immediately, adding rum to the jug when he laughs so hard his head falls back and his eyes close.

When he leans more to the front and you see his arms flexing, you can’t help but suddenly feel conscious of how much you’re talking to a boy you have just met so freely. Maybe you’ve had too many trial drinks while you were mixing and it had started to get in your head without noticing, it wouldn’t be the first time, and sure wouldn’t be the last time.

He smiles at you with a closed mouth, just like the man you had met on the bus many hours before, but you like this smile. Wonbin, unlike the older man, looks at your face without trailing down.

‘’Well, were you?’’ he asks.

‘’Where?’’ you ask too, because half of the conversation you were having just disappeared from your head when you saw his necklace, almost as pretty as him, glint.

‘’The Ink, the tattoo shop’’ he repeats.

‘’Oh, well yeah, but I just went in because I was curious.’’

You’re lying. You hate lying, but again, you didn’t feel like telling someone you just met your whole life.

You had seen on the internet how some people covered their scars with tattoos, which honestly, seemed like a great solution to your esthetic situation. However, when you crossed the door all your bravery went to hell, especially when the gorgeous admin asked you to see it and then the next time told you that a skin-colour tattoo wouldn’t be possible in your case since the scar was too dark, and that a much better option would be to get one with colours. Obviously, she didn’t know your parents or your career, because who the hell will want to hire a preschool teacher with a colored tattoo? You could already hear the comments, you being so silly to try to cover a scar with a new one, and how improper was for a lady, a teacher, to have one.

He nods at your answer. ‘’Well, was it worth it?’’ he asks.

‘’What? Going in? I guess so, it’s a nice place, a bunch of colours and great walls, they have some interesting draws too’’ you say, also leaning and grabbing a few chips to eat while talking.

Your hand almost meets his when you reach the bag again, and you look at each other’s eyes. He smiles again and you get shy at being that close to him again, pushing your hand into the bag to pretend you didn’t feel your stomach flutter with that silly interaction. He lets you put your hand in first, and then he grabs a couple more, eating them slowly, looking as if he was thinking about something else.

Michael Jackson starts to sound in the background, and you bob your head as instinct to the rhythm.

‘’Didn’t take you for a Thriller girl’’ he says, tilting his head and grinning.

‘’Because I’m not, I’m a Rock with You girl, sometimes a Dirty Diana one too’’ you answer, happy to talk a bit about music you like. Your friends don’t like him that much, but they let you sneak a few songs into the shared playlist, and that’s enough for you.

However, you didn’t choose Thriller for this playlist.

‘’I guess you’re the Thriller guy then’’ you say.

‘’Yeah, I’m a failure’’ he stands, grabbing his cup and sipping before he continues. ‘’But I’d like to hear you teaching me something about him, so I stop being one.’’

Smooth Criminal, you think, letting him guide you to the couch.

While talking, you don’t even realize how much time has passed until you hear the laughs fall and some of Sungchan guests start leaving. The day is well behind, an orange sky out there at 6 pm, and you don’t want to go home.

Your friend had come with Sungchan to say goodbye to some people, and when she asks you if you’re tired, you say that you’re okay, just a little hungry. She nods and orders a couple of pizzas with Sungchan’s phone since hers is connected to the speakers outside.

There are only like 7 people left, including you and Wonbin, who decide to stay on the couch with you when another boy, Sohee, tells him that going to the jacuzzi to submerge his feet should be fine.

You don’t think much about what Sohee says, but you’re too cosy with Wonbin to even think at all.

‘’Won’t you ask why he said that?’’ Wonbin says when you’re alone again.

‘’None of my business’’ you say.

‘’I’m a bit curious though, if you don’t mind me asking why you would prefer to stay here in charge of the bar, because as much as I like your drinks, I don’t think you’re used to staying still in charge of things like this at parties.’’

‘’Well, you’re wrong about that, I enjoy being in charge a lot, and I can do it for many hours’’ you say, not noticing how odd it sounds. He looks a bit shocked at first, and then laughs hard. You can’t go back in time to correct yourself, so you laugh with him.

You start to think that maybe you can tell him, it’s not the end of the world, but you can’t even think about revealing something that deep to him. Well, it’s not that deep, you showed it to your friend literally the day you met her. You were in the cafeteria when you spilt your milkshake over your sweater, so you had no option but to change, and you somehow knew she would be your friend when she laughed and told you to grab her sweater if you were that cold, so you showed it to her.

Still, Wonbin is so pretty, even his teeth when he laughed were pretty, and you couldn’t imagine what he would think if he knew.

You don’t imagine a whole relationship with him to think about his opinion too highly, but there is interest, and you want to keep it there as long as you can.

Being your age and haven’t fucked a boyfriend under the light, you simply couldn’t feel comfortable enough to show it to a boy you barely knew and kind of liked.

‘’Just because’’ you say.

‘’I see’’ he says, knowing there’s something you don’t want to tell him. ‘’Well, a win for me anyways, I’ve learned a lot in just an afternoon’’ he says, making you sigh, glad he changes the subject.

‘’I’m glad I was able to tell you everything Wikipedia has about the most known person in the world’’ you haven’t even stayed on the topic for too long for him to learn something, you just said what songs you liked, then showed him some playlists and laughed when you had songs in common, mentioning little moments you remember while listening to them, like not being able to remember your lines in a school play when they suddenly put Beat It as background music, or playing The Way You Make Me Feel in the speaker when one of your friends wanted to confess to a girl (she rejected them so it’s banned from every shared playlist). You shake your head with a smile, not looking at him when one of his hands gets closer to you, resting behind you on the couch.

Oh, you say in your head. You don’t know how close you’ll let him get, but it feels so right.

You haven’t talked (kind of flirted, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself) with a boy that long in years. You kind of remember Anton from your Art, Music & Movement course with whom you went on a couple (unofficial) dates until he took an exchange program and had to leave for a whole year. Then you remember talking to Seunghan, a guy who gave you his spot in the queue for the bathroom at a concert and with whom you exchanged numbers after he bought you a really overpriced burrito, but he lived two hours away, and you had no energy or time to really be something. And then, then you got no one else.

The room is quiet, you notice. He’s not talking, and neither are you, so you fall into a comfortable silence. You hope he’s not tired yet, you’re not, but maybe your social battery has just died, so you lean into his side a bit more, letting your body relax and your head touches his arm behind you.

He looks at you with a small smile, and you start to inspect his face like you feel he’s doing with yours. He has dark eyelashes, thin, but they’re enough to mark his eyes, and they go well with his black hair. You also notice that his hair is shorter on the back and longer on the front, letting some locks fall around, creating little shadows over his face and covering the end of his eyes. He looks really good with the haircut, but you’ve seen him in pictures with Sungchan before, and he honestly always looks good.

Your eyes fall to his chest because you don’t want to make the moment awkward.

What he’s wearing is simple, a black shirt without sleeves that shows his well-toned arms, skin smooth, almost too perfect, and you can’t help but remind yourself how you’re not as perfect as him.

You doubt he has any flaw like yours, and you don’t mean a weird-looking mole or a scar that anyone could have from childhood, yours is different, too noticeable, impossible to ignore. His whole body was an uninterrupted harmony you couldn’t relate to.

Wait, you stop yourself from thinking too far away. What’s that?

You notice that there, in his chest, under the fabric of his tank top, there’s a bulge you haven’t noticed before, and it’s not his nipples, you’re completely sure of that.

Boys will be boys, and the words of your friend start to echo in your head.

You always hated that phrase. How could they all be so brute and inconsiderate of everyone else that weren’t themselves? The lack of respect to stare at your chest without a care of you disgusted you just hours ago.

And now, you start to ponder if, perhaps, in the end, you’re as brute as the man you met on the bus.

Poor Wonbin is finally filing the silence with something about how he had found a new band not long ago, giving you the exact same charming smile he’s had the whole afternoon, flirty but respectful, making you feel almost guilty from not being able to concentrate on the conversation, too busy trying to not stare at his chest.

You blink twice, trying to look at his eyes again.

It doesn’t work. You can’t ignore it.

It was impossible. They were there, standing under his shirt, calling for you to look at them.

Coughing, you move from the touch of his hand behind you, almost as if it burned you, and drink the almost pure water from the ice that melted in your cup.

You scold yourself. I’m not better than a man, you say in your mind before finishing the opaque result of water, rum and coke in your hand in one go, and then, not having anything else to distract yourself with, you bite the inside of your cheek to distract yourself with the pain.

‘’Sorry, am I boring you?’’ he says not much later, feeling the change in your behaviour.

‘’Eh?’’ you say, turning your body in his direction again.

You notice that his cheeks have a pretty reddish flush, and he stays still, letting you stare, waiting for you to talk. Without a doubt, he was one of the prettiest boys you’ve ever met, and in that moment, you were too dazed into him and his stupid pierced nipples to talk to him as easily as you’d been doing when you didn’t know about their existence.

‘’No’’ you finally say. ‘’I’m sorry, that was rude of me, I had other things on my mind.’’

‘’Like what?’’

You don’t expect him to lean even more into your space and show more interest in what you’ve been thinking about, making you more nervous for not being able to concentrate on another thing that wasn’t him and his pierced nipples so close.

It’s stupid, you can’t help but think. You’re treating him differently. You’ve changed after finding out he has pierced nipples, and it’s exactly what you don’t want to happen to you when people find out about your scar.

‘’Your cheek’’ his hand moves to your face, startling you since he hadn’t touched you that directly the whole night, and with his thumb he caressed the cheek you were obviously biting from the inside. ‘’Doesn’t it hurt?’’ he asks.

You gulp. ‘’Not really.’’

He hums, smiling even more when you move your eyes from his face to his chest, and then, after awkwardly blinking a couple times, looking down to your lap.

A strand of your hair falls out of the lame excuse of a hairstyle you tried to do (not daring to use a ponytail to a party and loose hair with the hot weather) over your face when you look down, and his hand moves on its own to accommodate it behind your ear, the pad of his finger slowly brushing a spot you didn’t know you like, making you melt with his touch like a popsicle in the street at 2PM.

‘’It doesn’t hurt either’’ he says. ‘’If you were curious.’’

Not understanding what he’s referring to, you give him a confused look.

‘’What doesn’t hurt?’’ you ask him.

‘’The piercings’’ he answers, laughing when your cheeks get red, and you shake your head to say no.

‘’I-‘’ I wasn’t looking at them, you want to say. It was just untrue, and denying something you’ve clearly been doing since you noticed them would make you look even more pathetic. So, deciding to be different from the shameless man who never apologized to you, you prefer to be honest. ‘’I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked at them like that’’.

‘’Why?’’ he asks, and you feel a sense of deja vu.

‘’It’s rude, to stare at your chest’’ you clarify. ’’At least, uninvited.’’

He looks as if he’s enjoying seeing you that embarrassed, almost as pleased as when you bravely talked to him at the bar, when you remember applauding your mind for creating fresh answers. At that moment, your brain seems to have suffered from all the rum you’ve had since you arrived, so it can’t change the subject or give you a quick joke to make the moment less humiliating.

‘’It’s okay, I don’t mind’’ he denies with a breathy laugh, hand moving down from near your face to your arm, sliding until he finds yours, interlocking fingers when he does. ‘’I invite you to do it, then.’’

‘’What?’’ your eyes become bigger and everything around you, mute.

You see his mouth moving and saying something like, I can show them to you, if you want, before he, not waiting for an answer, makes you stand with him. You can’t see what he says after that when he looks back to the crystal door separating you two from the others outside, and then without doubt he makes you follow him.

It wasn’t his place, yet he moved with enough confidence as if it was, dragging you by the hand to the second floor, a place you had never seen even with your constant visits to the place of your friend’s boyfriend. You always stuck to the first floor, not wanting to cross any boundaries with Sungchan, so you feel as if you’re seeing something you shouldn’t when on the second floor, after walking upstairs, you’re received with tons of family portraits showing you his childhood.

You don’t say anything, you let him move you until you both enter a bathroom you’ve never been to. Closing the door, suddenly you can hear again when you recognize the faint sound of music coming from downstairs and some people laughing.

‘’We have to be quick’’ you hear him say after he presses the secure of the door.

The bathroom is smaller than the one on the first floor, almost tiny. There’s only a sink and a WC besides, with a towel hanger under the light and a mirror over the sink. You can hear the vents working when he turns on the light, but you’re too distracted with his whole body trapping you between him and the sink, not giving you opportunity to put any space between you two, to care.

When he shows you a cheeky grin after you lean more into the sink to put a centimetre more between you, nervous of being there with him, close, and obviously about to do something you’re not used to do with people you’ve just met, you don’t care anymore.

His lips are pink and glowing after he licks them, and he’s too pretty for you to say no.

He moves your left hand to his covered chest, and you have to contain the surprised whimper your throat almost lets out when you feel the little thing that has caught your interest since you recognized it.

One of your hands is gripping the marble of the sink with force to maintain you sane, and it works, until he sighs when you flick it.

His face still has that cheekiness that you had understood, from your time talking, characterized him, but it was now mixed with desire, leaving behind the whole courtesy, making him look even better in front of your eyes.

You become needier, if he looks that good with just a flick, you can’t imagine how would he look if you two did more.

‘’Take it off’’ you urge him, not caring that the tone of your voice makes it seem almost an order.

The hand previously glued to the cold surface moves to the border of his shirt, feeling like a punch the warmness of his skin, pushing it up so he does what you asked faster.

‘’Shit’’ he grins, lifting his arms and allowing you to take it off for him. ‘’What happened to the timid girl from before?’’

‘’I’m not usually like this, I swear’’ you say. You want to tell him that no one had made you that eager before, even less with just a look, but again, you had never met anyone, especially a man, with pierced nipples, so he should understand your curiosity when you admire his naked chest and lick your lips before you look at his eyes again.

Growing up as a woman, you have seen firsthand how a good pair of tits could make the smartest and most respectful man a complete asshole. Even the most respectful men that you had gladly called your friends, have been caught by your always wary eyes looking at other women’s chests.

You don’t wear cleavage, so it doesn’t happen to you that much, but just that day a man did it on the bus, like a primitive caveman, a beast, and it’s so embarrassing that you’re acting like one of them in that moment.

Surely, Darwin would be especially disappointed with your regression as a human, but, in your favour, everyone becomes monkeys with the quantity of alcohol you’ve had that afternoon. Also, the weather has a lot to do too, because if it wasn’t that hot, Wonbin wouldn’t have been wearing a tank top, therefore, he wouldn’t have left his ample chest on your eyesight, and that has nothing to do with you. It was all climate change, so perhaps even Darwin would’ve forgiven you for wanting to lick some man’s nipples.

The rum in your system makes your mind babble nonsense and you have to shut your mind for a second. But you want to lick them so bad. You never thought you could fall that low, but there you are, in a bathroom only used to shit at, trying to not moan just from the sight of those pink nipples with little silver beams pointing at you.

‘’I believe you’’ he sighs with a smile, moving further to the wall behind him so you could see his chest better.

You can’t believe your eyes.

You can see the metallic object break through the pink flesh, two tiny spheres on each end of it to not let it move from its place, and you can officially say you have never seen anything that hot in your life.

Hypnotized by the way the object sparkles with the warm light above you two, you timidly move your index fingers to flick them again, making him breathe through his nose and bite his lip to contain himself.

‘’Do they feel good?’’ your curiosity, instead of getting satiated, is growing, and you have tons of questions appearing in your mind.

‘’Per se… sometimes, when I get conscious of them’’ he admits. ‘’But I usually have to touch them if I want to feel something’’.

You flick them again, to then grip them with your index and middle finger and, slightly, almost with fear, twirl them. ‘’Is this okay?’’ you ask, gulping the saliva accumulating in your mouth.

‘’Yeah, that feels good’’ he assures you, both of his hands going to your hips to maintain you in place while his head falls to the wall behind, and he closes his eyes.

You keep doing the same motion, loving the sighs that he leaves out and how a frown of pleasure starts to install on his face. At some point, his own chest is moving with how hard his breath has become, doing the work for you of tugging them while you hold them still.

His eyes are closed and his tongue salutes you when he wets his lips, pressing his hips against you. His boner is appearing there, pressing the mount of your abdomen, but you’re so concentrated on the image in front of you that you can’t care less about him using you to stimulate that area every time his hips push softly into you.

He looks so good like that. You can’t stop yourself from asking when, after twirling them harder, a particular moan leaves his mouth, making you wet. You’re not being touched at all apart from his hands marking your hips with his strength, but your sex was clenching with the pleasure you were giving him, as if those touches were gifted to you too.

‘’Can-Can I lick them?’’ you ask nervously.

‘’Fuck, don’t do that to me’’ his eyelids flutter and you stop all your movements, afraid you’re asking for too much. Shit, perhaps even he thinks I’m crazy, you tell yourself.

‘’Can’t I?’’ you ask, sad of him denying your question, or at least, what you understood as a denial.

‘’Don’t fucking stop’’ he says, one leg going between your thighs and bending it to touch you more. ‘’Do whatever you want honey, I know you’ll do it with care’’.

You don’t need anymore, and moving down your face to his chest, you look up at him with deer eyes, afraid of him stopping you again.

He nods at you, giving you the certainty you want to start doing it.

You’ve never licked another person’s nipples before, so you were unsure of exactly what to do, and remembering what your couple of partners have done before to make you feel good, you press the tip of your tongue over one of them, damping the pink tip and tasting the combination of the flavour of his skin and the metallic object.

Your pussy feels even better with the sensation of it in your mouth, stealing a moan from you.

‘’Shit, you like them that much?’’ he asked, obtaining a nod from you as a response. God, what would your friend say if she found you in that position? You feel sick for a second, but you quickly ignore that thought with the shake of his laugh inside his chest making you look at him instead.

‘’They’re really pretty’’ you say between laps, maintaining eye contact.

‘’Not as pretty as you baby’’, he praises you back.

You moan again with his words, and your eyebrows frown when you feel his knee pressing your cunt, feeling yourself dripping inside your shorts.

‘’You’re doing good baby, keep going’’ he smiles, making you happy with the idea of doing a good job for him.

It’s all so weird. The last thing you expected that day was Wonbin to have pierced nipples, even less, that you would be licking them in a bathroom. However, there you are, moaning while humping his knee and playing with one of the piercings while your mouth continues tasting the other.

Wonbin tastes and smells so good, you’re getting dizzy, as if his whole body was made from the sugar you needed to get completely drunk.

It’s all a bunch of frantic moves, you’re humping his leg while his hands push to the sink behind you, biting his lips hard at the sensation of your mouth drinking his chest.

‘’Fuck- that’s so good’’ his voice sounds in pain, and you bite the little mound in your mouth as you do with your cheek, controlling yourself to not hurt him, to what he shudders before his mouth falls open and a choked sound escapes his swollen lips. ‘’That’s enough, stop’’ he pushes you away, gaining a whine from you because you don’t want to stop, you want to continue, to see his gorgeous face break apart.

‘’Why?’’ you complain. His knee digs into you harder, and you move your hips more to the front as a response. He’s trying to control his breath, and you like how he’s looking at you, as if he was as bad for you as you are for him.

‘’I was about to cum’’ he reveals, and you can’t believe he just told you that, because the idea sounds so good you clench around nothing.

‘’Please, please’’ you beg.

Just minutes before you thought you were crazy for wanting to lick his nipples, but now you realize that you’re insane for wanting to see him cum like that. For needing to see it. You’re sure his cock is fucking pretty as well, and you want to see it spurring with cum so bad you don’t even ask before your hand starts to pull his belt open. He lets you, going to the hem of your shirt, and there’s when your whole euphoric state stops, and panic arises.

‘’No, wait, stop’’ you push his hand away and he lets you go immediately.

‘’What’s wrong? I thought-‘’ he doesn’t finish the sentence, clarity coming back to him too. ‘’Did I read things wrong?’’

He didn’t read anything wrong. You wanted to get even more intimate, but you’re scared. The light is on, and you can see him, which means, he can see you too.

‘’No, it’s just…’’ how could you say, please don’t get scared, or disgusted, I have a huge mark that goes from my shoulder to my chest that will never leave me alone, without sounding odd. You don’t think he’s ever heard or seen anything about surgery scars, from what you can see, he’s perfect in more ways than you can even explain. He’s handsome, yes, but his pierced nipples had added a touch of surprise to him, making him insufferably hot. He wouldn’t understand.

‘’What?’’ he asks, shaking you out of your mind vomiting sentences that make your insides stir with anxiety.

The moment is already awkward, the emotion and lust overpowered by your discomfort.

‘’I shouldn’t’’ you say, your words not making any sense since you can’t force yourself to tell him.

‘’You don’t want to continue?’’ he asks confused. ‘’I mean, you can change your mind, but I don’t get it, did I do something wrong?’’

‘’No, of course not’’ you say. ‘’It’s not you, it’s me.’’

Perfect, now you sound as if you were breaking up with him.

You can’t find the correct words. You’re sure what you’re feeling is perfectible understandable with how your parents had taught you that you shouldn’t just show it around, making you ashamed of it until you reached your vast age. But, you were a grown-up now, and you were about to be a teacher, how could you let your life be controlled by something you couldn’t change, even more, by something as banal as your physique.

You would be in charge of so many little lives in just a couple years, and you would never want one of them to feel ashamed of who they are solely because of their bodies.

You know what your mother did that day was wrong, but you know even more that you should start to change how you feel about it.

Also, you’ve talked the whole night, and if you were about to (probably) fuck him, you should at least make sure he wasn’t an asshole that found you disgusting by a mark.

Looking at him with pleading eyes, he stays silent, letting you take as much time as you need. You grab the hem of your shirt, and you want to sprint out as soon as your head starts playing the exact words you’ve heard every time you’ve gone shopping and tried on something that showed your skin. You shouldn’t.

To be fair, you correct that same voice, you’ve done a lot of things you shouldn’t, like entering a tattoo shop when your whole family and career were conservative as hell, or accepting a burrito from a complete stranger in the middle of the night in a concert, and you’re still alive.

His shoulders become smaller, and one of his hands goes to his shoulder, covering himself while his biceps show more.

‘’If it’s the piercings, I assure you I don’t have one down there, I’m not that brave’’ he laughs.

‘’What?’’ now you’re even more confused.

‘’Well, I know many don’t like them, I thought you did, but I could be wrong’’ he blinks like you do when you’re nervous, and you have to shake your head before you talk again.

‘’Wonbin, I was moaning while licking them just a second ago, I think that’s enough proof of how much I do like them’’ you say suddenly surprised with the way the confident guy you’ve been talking to the whole party has changed to a shy version of himself. You can’t seem to let him feel the problem is him, so you take all the courage you have, pull up your shirt and toss it to the floor, just like Wonbin did.

You’re wearing the top of a swimsuit, because even if you weren’t going to swim, you didn’t want to stay out of the theme. The thin straps don’t hide anything from you, and you leave the insecurity of your life on full display.

He looks at you and blinks.

‘’So, you want to continue?’’ he asks.

You blink, not believing that he’s not making any question about it. Your first boyfriend asked you desperately what had happened to you, expecting a sad story with tears, and you didn’t feel like receiving that pity look again, so you never fucked him, or anyone, in daylight ever again.

You also broke up with him after fucking two times.

‘’I mean, I want to, but don’t you have any question?’’ you ask unconvinced. Was he ignoring the elephant in the room or were you to pretentious to think everything was about your mark and everyone would focus on it your whole life?

‘’About what?’’

You start to feel stupid (which was probably right).

‘’Is my scar… okay to you?’’ you ask then.

‘’Why would it not be? I’ve seen it before’’ he says.

You lift your hand to stop him. You have to stop everything from moving forward in that exact same second.

‘’What do you mean you’ve seen it before?’’ you can’t believe it. You’ve hidden it so well some of your friends have never seen it in years of friendship. You’ve hidden it so well that you have family that has never heard of your fall when you were a dumb child who obliged their parents to take off the training wheels before they learned how to fully drive a bicycle.

‘’I’m a tattoo artist at The Ink. The admin sent me a picture of it to check if I could do the nude tattoo. I told you that I saw you there. I wanted to talk to you to convince you to a coloured one, but you had left when my other appointment ended.’’

He says it with such calm you can’t help but feel calm too, even if incredibly dumb at the same time. He didn’t look like usual tattoo artists, he had his arms empty, like blank canvases waiting to be painted, and you had to be honest, you imagined them all to have no empty space in their bodies.

Where was the tweety you imagined them all to have?

You nod, understanding. You’re such an asshole, you’ve done to him everything you didn’t want people to do to you. You’ve judged his appearance, his career, everything out of the stupid traditionality of your ideas.

‘’I see’’ you say, and he smiles.

‘’Did you think I would push you away the second I saw it? As if it was a scarlet letter?’’ he says with a breathy laugh, as if he found funny how dumb you were for thinking it was a problem.

‘’First, I didn’t know you read. Second, well yes, don’t laugh at me, I’m all vulnerable and almost tits on air’’ you say, looking at his chest to distract yourself from the shame. At least, you think, it’s not because of your body anymore.

He laughs louder, getting closer to your body and leaving his head on the space of your neck and putting his hands over yours, which were gripping the surface of the sink. It feels like a hug, but you doubt it could be described as that when he wasn’t wrapping you with his arms. He was just there, close, chest to chest, pressing his hard piercings against your flimsy bikini top.

‘’I have something to admit though’’ he says after a second.

Of course, there was something, everything was too good to be true. You sighed, nodding and giving him permission to say it.

It’s weird. Looks a bit ugly. It’s hard to digest.

‘’I think it’s really pretty, especially the color, it reminds me of cherry blossoms.’’

You swear, Wonbin can’t stop surprising you.

‘’Shut up’’ you smile shyly. He moves apart and when he sees you becoming all timid again, he cups your chin and makes you lift your eyes to him.

‘’I have a scar too, although not as pretty as yours’’ he says, moving the locks of hair covering his left eyebrow and showing you the nude line there.

You press your finger there. He’s a bad liar, not because he sounds unconvincing, but because what he said is blatantly not true. His scar is prettier, so much that it looks as if it had been done in purpose to make him look more handsome.

‘’Dumbass’’ you smile, pressing the pad of your thumb over his almost perfect eyebrow. If you’re honest, it looks perfect to you.

He uses your distraction and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You can’t react to it when he’s already away.

‘’What was that?’’ you laugh loudly, finding him adorable.

‘’A kiss, I hope’’ he answers, smiling so wide you see his bunny teeth.

Fuck, I like him, you think.

You kiss him again, this time for longer, so it’s a real kiss.

His hands go play with the straps of your top and you move your hands to your back to undo the knot holding it in place.

When you let it fall, he admires you like you did to him before. His hands, bigger than yours, go to your chest, playing with your nipples, to then go higher and follow the trail of your scar.

‘’I would die to draw flowers over them’’ he comments, index drawing the line. ‘’It would be a good branch’’ he notices. ‘’The flowers would be blossoming, at their best point, full of colour’’ he sighs, eyes dropping as if he was getting hot with the mere idea of tattooing your skin. His middle finger touches the little lines that move outward, like they’re born from the thick, uneven line. ‘’It would be a perfect tree’’ he finishes.

You’re getting wet with the image he plants in your imagination. It blooms in your sex, which is getting more wet with every second that passes. In your ears, he’s singing the hottest song you’ve heard in your life, watering the seed he had buried in your mind.

‘’I want to be a teacher. I’d get fired if they saw it’’ you lament.

‘’Don’t think so, every student would think you’re the coolest person around’’ he whispers. One of his hands goes down your abdomen, cupping you over your denim shorts and pulling a soft whimper from you. ‘’Just like I do right now.’’

‘’Welcome to the fan club,’’ you shake your head, opening your legs a little more, unnoticeable, and then punching his chest. ‘’You’re such a simp.’’

He grabs your hand and maintains it over his chest, cupping you harder to feel how wet you’re getting. He’s not touching you directly, but he knows you’re wet under all the clothes, and he smirks proudly. ‘’What can I say baby, you rocked my world.’’

You can’t believe he’s using one of your favourite songs to turn you on. He didn’t need to. You’re so wet you’re sure your bikini bottoms are drenched and it’s probably reaching the hard fabric of your shorts.

‘’Shut up’’ you order, touching his clothed erection and unfastening his belt. The metallic sound of it echoes inside the small room, covering the sound of the vents and your throat gulping the saliva accumulated.

‘’So, you do enjoy being in charge’’ he clicks his tongue, smirking. ‘’Now I just wonder how many hours you can boss me around.’’

‘’You said we have to be quick’’ you remind him, pulling down his zipper and smirking too.

‘’You’re right, sadly we’re not alone’’ he agrees, doing the same action with you. ‘’We’ll take out time the next time.’’

His fingers finally touch you directly, sliding a finger between your lips, gathering the wetness that pools there. You almost roll your eyes, feeling the quick touch over your clit electrifying. Still, you must have the last word. ‘’Bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time’’ you say like you can, hand going inside his trousers too.

He groans when you touch his cock. It jumps inside your grip, making you smile until he talks. ‘’With how wet you are, I’m sure it’ll be soon.’’

You want to say something even more cocky, but you can’t answer when his fingers press your clit again. You’re sure you’re making a mess inside your shorts and that you’ll be fucking uncomfortable downstairs, but if you’re going to go around with your clothes all dirty, he should do it too.

Playing with the head of his cock, you have to contain yourself from pulling down his underwear to catch the sight of it naked. The skin feels soft in your hand, and he’s so hard that, when you press it, you feel what he’s made. You’re sure he has a pink tip, just like his nipples, and that seems to drive you a bit more insane. The picture you create in your head is nearly orgasmic. His hard coke, with its thickness and bloody colour, angrily pointed at you for being the cause of its pain.

This is really something you shouldn’t be doing. You shouldn’t be giving a boy you just talked to that day a handjob. It’s so nasty and improper, much more than your scar or any tattoo you could get done.

When you use those adjectives, you notice, that you’re mostly referring to yourself. Could you see Wonbin as nasty and improper? He has pierced nipples, but you thought they were incredibly hot, not to be described as those words, or to be categorized with you.

‘’Your pussy is dripping so much. I want to lick it until I drown in it’’ he sighs, fingers smearing your juices and making a wet sound. ‘’You’d come in my mouth so good, I’m sure I’d be able to taste you the whole night.’’

Oh no, he is nasty and improper, just like you.

Your hand is a bit dry. The only thing helping you touch him good is the little pre-cum you’re using as lube to slide your hand. You spit in your hand while maintaining eye contact, and his grin gets wider, as if he’s glad he has found someone as sick and perverted as him.

You’re not, you try to convince yourself, but you know there’s no use. You were licking his nipples as if your life depended on it moments ago, and you’re sure you’d do it all over again.

Remembering they’re there, at your whole disposition, your free hand moves to touch one. You play with the beams, flicking it up and down, to then pull them. He groans harder when you do it, and you feel his cock get somehow thicker, but instead of loosening your grip, you tighten it and jerk him faster, touching the tip and the base so fast he hisses.

His hips move when you suddenly stop your hand, and you smile, liking how desperate he looks. He notices it, so to erase that smudgy grin, he plugs two fingers inside you, obliging you to part your lips with the sensation of him filing you and the sound of your pussy squelching. His fingers are long enough to shock you, and the pain of pleasure building is starting to hit you as much as him.

‘’Let it free, please’’ he asks nicely. He’s so polite and looks in so much pain you want to do it, but you’re sure that, if you asked the same, he wouldn’t comply your begs.

A dark spot is appearing in his black underwear. You can see it with the orange light on. He’s also sweating so bad with the temperature of the room that you see a drip fall from his damp hair to his neck and die on the bone of his clavicle.

You want to lick that place too.

‘’Don’t want to’’ you say, doing the fast motion again, making him grunt.

His fingers move faster too, pushing a bit down your shorts so he can finger you better. It sounds almost like a dessert, and you moan when he curls his fingers. Fucking tattoo artist with talented hands.

‘’Don’t be mean or I’ll be even worse’’ he warns you.

You twist his nipple harder, and he whimpers.

His hands are ferociously fucking you, two fingers deep inside you and his palm brushing your clit, making you wish you had the liberty of cumming without consequences.

You do it too, you keep his pace, moving your hand up and down, not thinking much about it, just following him. You’re the one touching him, you’re the one being mean while jerking him off inside his trousers, yet it feels as if he was the one commanding you to do so.

He starts thrusting the hold you have on him, simulating the force and speed he’s using to fuck you with his fingers.

‘’You’re so bad, the next time I’ll make you beg for me to use my tongue on you’’ he painfully says.

You’re getting closer, you feel it coming. Your pussy is already dripping what you feel as your close orgasm, and so is he with the twitching of his cock, you just know it. You frown, mouth open, and you don’t analyze your question when you do it.

‘’Why would I beg?’’ you innocently ask.

He doesn’t have to say anything. He opens his mouth, flashing you the silver ball in his rosy tongue, and you lose yourself, cumming with a silent moan and shaking legs. He does the same. Feeling your orgasm splashing his hand, he shoots his cum, marking with the marbles more than one spot in his underwear.

You finally pull down his underwear when you feel he has finished cumming, and you see, even if not as hard anymore, the prettiest cock you could’ve imagined. To fuck with him, you spread his cum along his softening shaft, and he does the same with you, sliding his fingers a couple more times before he takes his hand out. Watching it glossy and drops sliding down to his wrist, he looks at you and licks them before they get to his forearm.

You’re both a couple of nasty, improper, sick and pervert people.

Not much later, when you’re both getting decent again, he talks. ‘’Come to the studio, I’ll give you the tattoo’’ he says with a drunk voice. You’ve cleaned as much as you could with toilet paper, and you meet his eyes in the mirror. He’s behind you, knotting your bikini top for you, and looking extremely placid for doing it, as if he was still in the haze of the moment. ‘’Of course, after that, we should go on a date too’’ he says more firmly than his previous offer.

He’s perfect and imperfect in so many senses: he has rosy delicate lips, yet he has uttered the nastiest words you’ve ever heard, he has shaped eyebrows, yet a scar interrupts the harmony of them, and he has the beauty to attract anyone with all his odds, yet he chooses you.

No, he is perfect for you, just the way he is.

You’re still in the blissful state of your post-orgasm, kind of there and at the same time far away, so you don’t even think twice before you nod at his proposal.

‘’We should.’’

When you both eat the remaining cold pizza, he rests one of his hands on your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side, nodding when you tell him that cherry blossoms do sound good.

#riize smut #riize x reader #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #riize fluff

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marvelmusing · 3 days

Text

A Fresh Start

part two of the Someone Special AU

Pairing: Vampire!Darklina x Vampire!Reader

Summary: Settling into life as a vampire isn’t what you expected, but Aleksander and Alina are more than happy to guide you.

Warnings [18+]: mentions of masturbation, nudity, soft dark vibes, similar warnings to part one, vampire themes, blood consumption, reader is reliant on Aleksander and Alina for everything

My Masterlist

The first day you spend with Aleksander and Alina appears to have been a fluke - the last of your human energy being used up - because by the next day you’re exhausted. Aleksander assures you it’s normal for a fledgling vampire to sleep for the majority of the day when they’re a newborn.

It doesn’t take long for your mind to melt into a hazy mess. All that you’re aware of is forehead kisses, the sweet taste of hot blood in your mouth, and the sticky mess of arousal between your thighs that they wipe away carefully with a damp cloth.

Sometime during the fourth or fifth day, Aleksander is carrying you to bed after feeding you his blood, only for you to tighten your grip, looping your arms around his neck when he attempts to let go of you.

“No,” you whine, pitifully high with distress as you cling to him. “I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are, little one. You need your sleep.”

Aleksander settles you down on your mattress and helps you slip underneath the covers, tucking you in with care. For comfort, he gives you one of the plush animals from the collection Alina has lovingly assembled over the years of preparation for you - a fluffy brown bear with a cream bow around its neck - which you grasp onto, fidgeting with its ear in agitation.

When he turns away, heading for the doorway, you can no longer hold back your tears. The prospect of an empty bed, and falling asleep in the dark, has your throat constricting in fear.

“Aleksander,” you plead, sniffling as you press the bear tightly against your chest to ease the discomfort there. “Please don’t leave me alone.” He stops immediately. “I know it’s silly, but after what happened in the forest, I- I’m scared of the dark.”

He doesn’t say anything until he’s standing beside your bed, reaching over the bars to wipe your cheeks.

“Would you like me to stay with you until you fall asleep?” he suggests softly.

You nod.

Aleksander moves over towards one of the cabinets at the side of the room, lifting the lid of a little box and a tinkling melody begins to play.

He opens up the gate closest to him, climbing easily onto your bed. Almost instantly, you scramble to lie beside him. The stuffed bear stays pressed against your chest as you drape your legs over Aleksander’s, grasping onto his shirt tightly.

He smiles as you bury your head into the crook of his neck and the tension leaks from your body the moment he begins petting your hair.

“There we go,” he breathes out softly. His voice is gentle as he continues doting on you. “Deep breaths. Just relax.” His hand strokes down your body, encouraging you to nestle further into him. “That’s better, isn’t it, sweet girl?” The hand that isn’t in your hair rubs your thigh, the bare skin exposed as your nightgown shifts upwards. “You’ve been so brave for us.” A kiss is pressed to your forehead. “Such a good girl, sleeping and feeding when we tell you to.”

It hasn’t really been a conscious choice - adhering to the routine they’ve crafted for you. Hunger and exhaustion have been the driving forces behind your obedience. It’s hard not feed on Alina - when she offers you her fingers, sticky with blood from the shallow cuts created by her own fangs. Especially when her blood makes you feel so full, and warm, and safe. It’s almost embarrassing, the amount of times you’ve fallen asleep while feeding on them.

Just the thought of feeding makes you squirm slightly, a familiar heaviness growing between your legs. One morning, to your embarrassment, you had awoken with your hand tucked underneath your panties, fingers reaching for your leaking cunt. Aleksander had told you very firmly that he knew this instance was an accident, but you couldn’t touch yourself. Alina explained later on that it would overwhelm you.

Despite your frustration and arousal, you doubt your current capability to touch yourself efficiently enough to climax.

The scent of blood draws your attention back to the present, as Aleksander presses the pad of his thumb against your lips. Instantly, you open your mouth, allowing his thumb to press against your tongue. The tiny break in the skin there causes a casual flow of blood, just a taste. It’s the final nudge you need to fall asleep.

Aleksander would never let anything bad happen to you.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

As soon as you see Alina, a lightness fills your chest and your mouth waters. She smiles at you, casting the book she was reading aside.

“Good morning,” she says, gesturing for you to join her. “Come here, little one.” As soon as you’re within arms reach, she pulls you into her lap and you can’t stop yourself from smiling as you get comfortable. Her own smile widens. “That’s my girl.” She brushes some hair away from your face. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod. The conversations you’ve had with them both have been brief. Stolen moments between your naps and feeding sessions when your mind clears enough for you to focus on your words.

“How long will I be like this?” you ask her.

She frowns, her hands rubbing casually down your sides.

“What do you mean, sweet girl?”

“I’m always tired, and hungry.”

She laughs, petting your hair fondly.

“I’d say around another week.” That makes you frown slightly, trying to grasp the concept of time and whether a week is long. Thinking becomes more difficult, as your mind latches onto the sound of Alina’s heart beating. She seems to notice. “Are you hungry now, my darling?”

You nod, whining for her. She reaches over to the table beside her, picking up a fruit knife from the plate where a half sliced apple is sitting. With her other hand, she loosens the ribbons at the front of her dress.

Slowly, she drags the blade across the top of her breast, at the point where her chest begins to soften. The cut is shallow, but blood soon blooms brightly and the sight of it draws you in.

“Go ahead. Drink your fill.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

one week later

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It’s strange being out in sunlight. All the stories you’ve heard about vampires paint the image of a monstrous creature that belongs to the night. But the sun is gentle on your skin, shining cheerfully down on you.

Basket in hand, you follow Alina obediently as she pulls up potatoes from the garden. Her hands are muddy, as is her dress, but her eyes are bright as she relishes in the work. She hums a soft tune, a melody you’re familiar with but can’t quite identify.

It feels as though you’re seeing the world for the first time, staring up at the clear blue sky and smelling the rich dirt as a cool gust of wind strokes your cheeks. Birdsong echoes in the distance. The scent of flowers and greenery dances along the breeze.

Suddenly, you realise Alina has moved further down the patch at some point while you were distracted by an orange butterfly. Aleksander will be able to tell you what kind it is later.

“Feeling alright, sweet girl?” she asks, concern crinkling at her features. Quickly, you nod and head back towards her. “If you’re getting tired, we can go back inside?”

Immediately, you shake your head.

“No. I like being outside.”

She smiles softly, sweeping a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“I do too.”

Aleksander is sitting beneath a tree in the corner of the garden, a book in his lap that he soon replaces with your head. He strokes your forehead gently, fingertips smoothing down the length of your nose as your eyes flutter closed, unused to the bright light of the sun.

Alina sits down beside him, retrieving a ripe berry which she holds against your lips and you bite eagerly into the morsel. Yesterday, they had begun your slow reintroduction to solid food, and strawberries from the garden are currently your absolute favourite. Everything tastes better now, though not as delicious as their blood.

Aleksander picks up his book, reading the story aloud. Alina turns the page for him, when needed, so that he doesn’t have to let go of you. The three of you sit there in the sun, while they provide you with all the affectionate touches and strawberries they can give you.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird

#aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov #darklina x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #alina starkov x reader #darklina au #shadow and bone au #vampire au #shadow and bone x reader #vampire!aleksander morzova #vampire!alina starkov #vampire!reader

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i4mizu · 2 days

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so.. modern!mizu x reader with a good girl kink and likes calling mizu ‘mommy’? (if u are able, id love to see some hcs for this)🫢

that’s my first request like that and sorry for the late answer! 😿 to explain, this is the way i imagine that topics coming into mizu and readers relationship for the first time. 🍓🎀

mizu was sitting on the bench playing with a pink ribbon that she found by chance on her way back home. she heard the sound of the door unlocking and waited for you to get to the kitchen.

“i brought the things!” you smile with bags on both arms, visibly excited. mizu smiles and looks at you, still playing with the ribbon.

“what’s that?” you ask.

“place the bags on the table and turn around.”

like an instinct, you obeyed without blinking.

“i found this on the street.” she starts, and comes close to your ear. “and i thought it would look beautiful around your neck...”

she makes a bow with the ribbon. a shiver rises from the tips of your toes to your neck, mizu smirked. you clear your throat trying to get rid of this feeling.

“let’s do it, c’mon!” you start taking the ingredients out of the bags, mizu smiles to herself. “cute…”

the tanghulu night had already been scheduled some time ago. you two started preparing everything without much difficulty.

mizu was opening the green grapes and strawberries while you picked up the pans and the jug of water, when she had an idea.

“my love? i have a challenge for you. try eating the grape and the strawberry at the same time here in my hand, and without using yours.”

you chuckle. you always liked challenges and were a bit competitive, so… why not? and it wouldn't be that difficult to do.

putting your hands behind your back as a provocation, you lowered your body and ate the grape and strawberry without any trouble.

before you could get out of position, suddenly mizu grabbed your chin.

“now swallow.”

she looks deep into your eyes, which had changed expression, you were confused.

“that’s my good girl…” the pang of sensation comes straight to your stomach, maybe lower.

“now kneel.” you didn't even see it coming. she lightly strikes your calf so your legs give out and you fall to your knees in front of her.

“i've been noticing this, all week you started acting like this. seeking my guidance for everything, following orders without question. just like… a little puppy.”

“sorry, mommy…” her eyes widen, a sideways smile appears.

“what did you just called me?”

your immediate reaction is to try to move away due to the immense shame, but she pulls you closer to a tight hug.

“no-! no, no… come here, it’s ok princess… that’s a pretty normal reaction, okay? you’re not weird for wanting to call me names.”

the two of you talked for a few minutes, and then finally went back to do the tanghulu. you cuddled on the sofa, eating and watching a movie until you fell asleep.

#lesbian #sapphic #wlw #mizu #modern mizu #mizu x fem!reader #mizu headcanon #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #bes mizu #wlw post #wlw headcanon #wlw headcanons #lesbians #bes modern au #bes

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cera-writes · 2 days

Text

"Ma chère, you are mine." 🃏

Part Two

Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: slow burn, angst, jealousy Remy never thought there'd be someone else besides Rogue who'd just waltz into his life, but there you were. A/N: This fic is based on episode 5 of X-Men 97. There may be future nsfw themes in later chapters. I'm thinking of making this into three parts at least. Tagged: @lokislittlemouse @give-jack-a-lightsaber

That night, the sky was lit in a cacophony of bursts and particles of light exploding in an array of beautiful colors cascading over Genosha. The fireworks were a sight to see, but so were you.

You had just finished getting ready. You stood in front of a grand mirror in the room you were sharing with Rogue while on your trip in Genosha. A grand window with a balcony overlooked the city below, illuminated by the chasms of light pouring down from the fireworks overhead.

Your dress was a shade of midnight, sparkling with diamonds like stars enmeshed into the fabric. Spaghetti straps adorned your bare shoulders as a plunging neckline accentuated your breasts. The dress fit you like a glove. There was a split up the dress that stretched all the way up the length of your right leg to your mid thigh, daring to show a little skin. It screamed Eclipse, much like your name.

You let your hair fall loosely around your face and wore a tad bit more makeup than usual, to which Rogue helped you with. You were in a state of a much more glamorized version of yourself. Lastly, you slipped your matching black heels on before Rogue walked up behind you.

"Goodness me, if I were a guy I'd be all over you faster than a buzzard on roadkill. You are gorgeous, sugah!" Rogue gandered at you, fanning herself.

You smiled, not helping but to blush at her open-handed compliment. "Thanks girl, but honestly you did most of the work. I was just your canvas."

Rogue scoffed. "Puh-lease. Don't be so hard on yourself. Those men will be all over you tonight. I'm gonna have to practically fight em' off of you." She meant to strike up light-hearted banter with you but you could tell there was something deeper going on that she wasn't opening up about. You could always tell when your best friend had something eating away at her.

"Hey...is something the matter? I can't help but notice that something is off with you tonight, Rogue." You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Rogue sighed but shook her head. "Don't worry about me sugah. Now, you should get down there. I'll be right behind ya," she tried reassuring you.

You frowned but decided not to pry further, even though you wished she'd open up to you.

You could practically hear the music blaring downstairs in the ballroom even as you sat at your vanity ten floors up.

There was only one man's attention you wanted tonight, but that thought just seemed like wishful thinking.

You checked yourself out in the mirror once more, admiring the shade of rouge that Rogue had adorned your lips with. She really was a treasure and you would never dream of getting in the way of her and Remy if that's what caused her mood to be so sullen.

You also noticed she hadn't slipped into her dress yet. "So...why haven't you gotten ready yet? You know the celebration starts in an hour." You asked Rogue with curiosity lacing your voice.

"There's uh, somethin' I need to talk to Gambit about first." She sighed. You knew it. Your heart sunk. I mean, what'd you expect? Gambit was only here because of Rogue and you were just here because she wanted you to come. But shouldn't she be happy? Maybe something had happened that you had no business interfering with.

You sighed with a breath of indignation. You should be happy that they'd finally get this moment, but you still couldn't help but feel bitter about it all. Rogue was...well, Rogue. She could get anyone she wanted. Even if she weren't able to be physical with Gambit, you knew deep down Gambit didn't care about that even if that was important to Rogue. He was in love with her.

Even so, there were ways of bypassing that kind of situation, even if it was frowned upon by your kind. Honestly, if the two of them were going to be together finally, you would at least make an attempt to drown yourself in liquor with Kurt at the bar. At least you'd forget about it if you drank well enough into the night with your other best friend.

Before you could even glance back at the southern belle, she was already gone. A gust of wind blew through the open window she must have slipped out of while you weren't looking. The curtains bellowed softly in unison as you did a once over in the mirror before heading out of your room.

"It's okay Eclipse...just be happy for them." You told yourself as your heart broke with every step toward the elevator down to the gala.

You reached the bottom floor, making your way toward the grand staircase leading to the open bar and dance floor. The room was grand with numerous glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. You could even spot a few guests hanging around on top of them, idling away in conversations with champagne flutes in hand. There was lively music flooding the open space as you watched people dancing and just overall having the time of their lives.

Despite the fun atmosphere happening around you, you could've waltzed right back to your room and played hermit and pretended that this night hadn't even happened. You felt the complete opposite akin to the atmosphere displayed before you.

And you would have thrown that dress off and undone the pins holding your hair in place if Rogue hadn't already spent an hour on your makeup. You cursed Morph in the back of your mind, knowing they were probably worry free watching crappy horror movies right about now. Gosh how you wished you were back home at the mansion.

You made up your mind that were going to find Kurt and spend the rest of your night dancing and drinking your feelings away. The faster you could forget, the better. Your eyes started scanning for any sign of the blue furball amidst the crowds of people there.

"Who is that? She's gorgeous!" You heard whispers as you descended the staircase. You felt everyone's eyes on you. Were they really talking about you? You weren't used to the attention at all like this. You couldn't help but smirk at the gawking but quickly shook your head. It didn't matter what they thought.

You weren't there tonight to find someone lucky enough to take back up to your room. No one else mattered to you. The only man that held your heart in his hands was breaking it anyway. You could live with yourself if that meant Remy was happy no matter how bad it hurt.

You had to suck it up. There was no point wallowing in this self pity bullshit anymore tonight. At least you'd convinced yourself of that much.

Your heels finally collided with the smooth tiles of the bottom floor. You nearly sighed in relief upon seeing a mop of black hair and blue skin cutting it up on the dance floor. "There he is," you smiled, making a beeline straight for Nightcrawler. At least he seemed to be having a blast. You needed some of that energy he was exuding.

"Eclipse! Oh Mein Gott! You look...breathtaking!" He immediately found you, eyes wide at your alluring appearance before teleporting right in front of you as you joined him over on the dance floor alongside a few others who were moving to the beat of the music.

"No, really! You are stunning tonight!" He grinned, taking your hand a placing a kiss on top of it. You face couldn't deny or hide the sudden heat from his sweet comment about you. "Thanks, Kurt."

"Gern geschehen," he bowed, offering a kind smile in return. "I thought you'd be here with Gambit, no?" He looked puzzled as he glanced behind you for any sign of the cajun man.

"Guess he's still getting ready," you shrugged indignantly, but you knew the truth anyway even if that was a half lie. You wanted to change the subject but you saw the concern in Kurt's expression as he watched your face.

"Look, meine Freundin, I know things with Gambit can be-"

But he didn't get to finish that sentence before you pulled him back into the crowd of people dancing, much to his surprise.

Nope, you did not want to have that conversation tonight.

"Let's just dance, okay?" you changed the subject as you started swaying to the beat of the music. Nightcrawler merely nodded, not wanting to pry but nonetheless twirled you around on the dance floor in compliance as you simply just let loose and tried forgetting about everything even if just for a moment.

The two of you danced for a while, just having fun. You were actually having so much fun in the moment with Kurt that you almost didn't notice that familiar reddish brown hair slicked back so handsomely, or the way his white suit clung to him in all the right ways. He was sitting at the bar having a drink just as Madelyne Pryor had made her way over to stand next to him.

Nightcrawler noticed you, too distracted to continue your dance with him and smiled. "You should go to him. I'll be right here if you need me." He cocked his furry head towards where Gambit was at the bar.

You sighed and swallowed the damn near painful lump in your throat as you started taking that first step towards Remy. But as soon as you did, you immediately paused to look up.

There, flying gracefully in as a grand gesture, was Rogue.

Her hair was done up around her face with a few loose strands hanging down and her dress was a scarlet shade accentuated with off shoulder straps of baby pinks that hung loosely down her arms.

But what you really noticed was that she wasn't wearing her usual gloves for some reason. It didn't matter because she was absolutely stunning.

You were sure she was going to find Remy and meet up with him below, but nothing could have prepared you for what she did next.

You watched as she flew directly towards Magneto, meeting him skin to skin as their hands touched, electricity igniting at their intimacy. Your jaw slightly slackened at the scene above as if they were dancing like two star crossed lovers for everyone to see. It was if it was a deliberate display of affection between them.

You dared to look at Remy, who was still standing over by the bar. And boy, did he look pissed. He was watching them with nothing but pure hurt and anguish behind his eyes. Even Madelyne had turned to cast him a look of pity.

You were just as confused.

Your eyes glanced back towards the two lovers trapped in what seemed like an intense tango of sorts. Then it happened. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss.

You placed a hand over your mouth in disbelief at what you were witnessing, surely having thought Rogue had spoken to Gambit earlier to confess her feelings.

Apparently you were way the hell off about your assumptions.

When you looked back in Remy's direction, he was already gone.

You had to find him.

Your feet quickly shuffled through crowds of onlookers as 'Happy Nation' continued playing loudly through the expansive room. You never were really a fan of Ace of Base anyway.

You needed to find Remy and fast.

The air inside was becoming too hot and stifling. 'If I were Remy, where would I run off to?'

The gardens.

You knew he'd have gone outside to get some air and clear his head so that's exactly where you were headed.

You ran out into the open cool air towards the giant fountain settled in the middle of a courtyard of square hedges and roses.

The fountain was lit up in blue lights, just enough to make out the man sitting alone with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he sat perched on the side.

Remy.

"Hey stranger," you timidly spoke up, easing your way towards him.

He blew out a puff of smoke and glanced in your direction.

"Hey chere," he couldn't help but smile softly upon seeing you, even if he felt like absolute shit in that moment.

"Mind if I pop a squat next to you?" You inquired, approaching the matter with as much gentleness as you could knowing what just transpired.

"I ain't stopping you," Remy simply remarked.

You delicately sat next to him, feeling the heat radiating off of him as your shoulders touched slightly.

You were about to bring up how he was feeling but he was the one who initiated first.

"Can you believe it?" He scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette as the ashes singed.

"Honestly, no." You replied, shaking your head incredulously as you gazed up at the night sky as trails of smoke drifted upwards into the balmy night air.

"I'm so so sorry, Remy."

You laid your head on his shoulder. You knew the pain was still fresh and still stung so you didn't want to talk about anything unless he wanted to initiate that conversation first. You just wanted to be there for him like you always did in the past. He was your best friend and you never wanted that to change.

He shook his head once more before tossing the cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with his shoe.

"That flame has long since died I think...but there's somethin' else too. It made ol' Gambit realize that he's been runnin' from his past too long. He was chasin' somethin' that wasn't ever meant to be his in the first place. They always say you find peace in the most unsightliness of places."

You didn't know what he was getting at but your heart was beating ninety to zero right now. You couldn't dare look at him in fear that you might say something you'll regret. Your head stayed rested against his shoulder as you played with your hands on your lap.

"I think I've had peace this whole time. It was always there, offering a shoulder to cry on or just a hand to hold," He laughed softly in disbelief as if finally coming to a revelation.

"Ma chere, you are mine."

Your eyes widened, heart hammering in your chest, and your relaxed posture had gone rigid as he confessed those words. Those words that held so much meaning. Your eyes pricked with tears as you slowly leaned away to finally face him.

He was smiling at you so tenderly that you could've melted from his gaze right there.

But no sooner did you have time to react to his meaningful words before the sound of ear piercing screams filled the air and everything came crashing down in a literal cloud of smoke and dust.

All you could see was darkness as chaos ensued.

Sentinels.

A/N: I hope ya'll enjoyed part two! I'll be working on part three tomorrow! Leave me comments <3

#x men 97 #gambit #remy lebeau #gambit x reader #xmen #remy lebeau x reader

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sacrificialdaughterr · 10 hours

Note

Something soft with abby x chubby reader? I don't see those much

I also love your writing, very underrated :)

a/n | being chubby myself, everything i write is automatically (in my mind) chubby reader. i think ill start adding it as a tag!! also thank you so much!!! i'm glad you like it <3<3

tags | abby x reader, fluff!! body worship(?), abby cant keep her hands to herself

There was something oddly comforting about the way pine soap mixed with the warm smell of a baking cake. Though two completely different aromas, they mixed beautifully, the sweet, chocolatey smell a perfect contrast to that of the earthy pine of Abby's usual soap. It almost had you feeling lightheaded, reeling in the way it wrapped around you as your hips swayed in time to the music; Stevie Nicks' raspy voice crackling from the record player sat in the corner of the kitchen.

The linoleum tiles felt cool beneath your bare feet, the soft fabric of the shirt you wore- something you stole from Abby- brushing against your skin as you let the melody of the music overtake you, leading you on a journey of relaxation as you impatiently waited for the ding! of the oven timer to grace your hearing.

You'd be lying if you said part of you wasn't doing this for attention- Abby's attention to be exact. You were all too familiar with how crazy it made her to see you dressed in one of her shirts; hem falling right at the curve of your ass, leaving little to the imagination as she drank in the sight of your plush thighs as if she were downright parched for it. You revelled in the way she'd whistle at you; a low, sultry whistle that sent goosebumps down your spine, always followed by drawled praise as her calloused hands groped and grabbed at your beautiful hips.

It was always the same story.

Even now.

A low whistle sliced through the air as easily as a knife through butter, the music nothing but background noise as you glanced over your shoulder. A shy smile pulled to your lips as your gaze landed on Abby; leaned against the doorframe, muscles rippling across her freckled biceps like the foamy waves that washed to shore. You suddenly became aware of how exposed you were, though you loved it, panties peeking out of the pine-infested fabric of the shirt that hugged your body.

"My baby.." She crooned, the obsession in her voice immediately diminishing the doubtful thoughts that swirled through your brain for merely a second. "Must be my lucky day.. Fuck.." She groaned, more to herself than anything, as her eyes travelled along the length of your plump figure, lingering on the way your thighs, even when standing, moulded together like clay.

A few long, quick strides later had Abby standing behind you, face finding the crook of your neck as she used your hips to pull you back into her. "What'd I do, angel? Hm?" She breathed out, warm breath caressing the shell of your ear.

Your eyebrows creased in question. Maybe it was how drunk you felt off her touch; rolling up the hem of your shirt to rub her hands along your bare sides, fingers ghosting across the rolls in your back, across the ridges of your stretch marks- or maybe it was the fact that she truly wasn't making much sense, but you didn't understand her words, what they were alluding to. "Nothing.." You mumbled, reassurance etched in your tone.

"Mm.." She hummed in thought, a smile of amusement pulling at the corners of her lips as she pulled back ever-so-slightly, blue eyes admiring the way her very own fingers sunk into your skin. In that moment, she understood how Michelangelo felt when he created the statue of David; skin made as soft as silk, features carved into the clay with the utmost love and attention as he constructed a piece of art that was almost biblical, had her wanting to fall to her knees and cry for at the sheer beauty bestowed before her. "Must've done something. I mean, shit.. Look at my pretty girl. All mine, yeah?"

Pressing your lips together, your gaze fell upon the kitchen counter as if the slowly-thickening bowl of icing you had been stirring was suddenly the most fascinating thing. Your face couldn't help but heat up as Abby's gentle words fully dawned upon you, settling over your nerves like a blanket of pure serenity. "Shush.." You managed to say- the only thing you managed to say, too flustered by the attention you were receiving to coherently form anything else.

"'M serious.." She mumbled, voice taking on a softer tone as she brushed stray hairs behind your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple as she hooked her strong arms around your waist. She rested her chin against your shoulder, lips brushing against your jawline as she mouthed the lyrics to the song you had completely forgotten about until this very moment, swaying languidly in time with the music that had suddenly taken its spot at the forefront of your mind.

Her fingers dipped into the icing, collecting the sweet substance on her calloused fingertips. With a soft, low hum of satisfaction, the taste of the homemade icing hit her taste buds- one that was then transferred to you; tongues mingling as her lips pressed against your own. "Wanna hear you say it, baby.." She drawled, smile gracing her features as she ran her palms against your hips in slow circles.

"Say what?" You merely squeaked in response.

"That you're all mine.."

The kitchen timer rang through the air, something that went unnoticed as you hung onto every word that dripped like honey from Abby's lips.

"I'm all yours," You finally whispered, dazed eyes glued to Abby's as your breathing grew unsteady, chest hitching in your futile attempt at taking a deep breath.

Abby nodded softly; an almost unnoticeable dip of her head. A satisfied smile found home on her freckled face as she pressed a soft, featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose.

Then she pulled away.

"Cake's gonna burn.."

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson moodboard #abby x you #abby anderson x reader #plus size!reader #chubby!reader #wlw #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2

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2hoothoots · 3 days

Note

So I was going through your blog (again) and found some of your stuff mentions fsau Raz having ADHD, as somebody with adhd I’m intrigued, may I have some of those headcanons (canons??) related to that? Also, I would give “a penny for your thoughts” but I’m out of pennies, so here’s various images of a drawing of ur blorbo I put next to my animals, note that a rock had to be added in one picture to keep him from flying away (BONUS: his now permanent place with the wifi guardian frog)

NOTHING brings me more joy than seeing physical drawings of these guys, like, out and about. in situations. thank you for this gift, and ALSO for the great ask because it's a perfect chance to ramble

so first of all, canon Raz having ADHD is very real to me. he's constantly fidgeting and moving around, getting distracted by sidequests and scavenger hunt objectives, always talking to himself out loud, gotta write everything down so he remembers it because there's so much to DO!, running away from home because his dad yelled at him one time and now Raz assumes he must hate him forever... i could go on, but i think there's a lot of room for interpretation there!

in my headcanon, he never got diagnosed as a kid. maybe there were some notes about it in his reports each year, sure - but a little hyperactivity and distractability never seemed to slow him down. he excelled in lessons and on missions, and when he was with his family their performances gave him something to focus that energy into. it was only really when he turned 18 and graduated to a full agent that the cracks started to show.

because there's a big difference between the responsibilities you have as a minor, and the responsibilities you have as an 18-year-old living away from home! one who's expected to cook and clean for themselves, and take care of adult life stuff, and also work the 9-to-5 office job he's just graduated into that involves sitting in front of a computer and write reports all day.

short-term, he found he could get himself to power through a deadline with energy drinks and psi-pops (a lot of psi-pops...)

long-term, something had to give. he was working himself to exhaustion, constantly stressed, swinging between days spent staring at his computer screen doing nothing and all-nighters desperately trying to finish his paperwork before the deadline. it just didn't make any sense to him. he'd finally started his job as a Psychonaut, he was living independently like he'd always dreamed, he'd gotten top surgery after planning it for so long. he should have everything he ever wanted. why wasn't he happy?

following a deep post-surgical depression, about a month before his 19th birthday Raz was living out of his car, couch-surfing or sleeping in his office. he got kicked out of his apartment after falling behind on bills and rent. it wasn't that he didn't have the money, it was all just too much for him to stay on top of.

he'd probably have stayed in that misery hole for a lot longer if Frazie hadn't marched into his life and demanded he let her help him move into a new place, or she was telling mom that he was homeless. together, they sorted through all of his possessions from the last place - everything that had been hastily shoved in his car, or tossed in a box in his office, piled in a heap that was giving him anxiety even looking at it.

things do get better for him from there.

when he eventually explains things to Hollis, she gently suggests that he should get a roommate. he ends up moving in with Phoebe, and they become pretty good friends after a couple months! something about having another person around to help do the chores and wash the dishes and share the space helps, even if it takes him a while to admit it.

he gets his ADHD diagnosis, and finding the exact right medication and dose is a journey he's still on years later - but they're a huge help in getting him to actually knuckle down and finish his work on time. and the whole thing ends up being a chance for him to take a step back and really think about what he wants to do with his life. he'd always assumed that being a Psychonaut was his dream, but he'd never really reckoned with what that dream would look like before.

in the end, he sticks with it, but also decides to follow Lili's example in branching out. he applies to study a part-time Bachelor's in Psychology on a remote course, and gets accepted. juggling missions and paperwork and study and relationships (because the whole thing made him realise he also wasn't setting aside any time for himself, and wow, dating is a thing) is a lot - but he manages to figure it out, day by day.

(Lili comes back to the Psychonauts after graduating. she and Raz have both changed a lot over those four years, but on their first mission together they hit it off like a house on fire - and the rest is history!)

#psychonauts #future superstar agents au #i really want to go more into this period of their lives for all three of them honestly #Raz and Phoebe's friendship is really sweet to me and i'd like to explore it more #and Lili's adventures at college! finding herself in an environment where for the first time in her life people /don't/ know her family nam #and Dogen finally realising he /has/ a life to live ahead of him. that it's not just isolation and tests and pills that don't work #young adulthood is a weird time! lots of ups and downs #but they all make it through okay #fsau raz #fsau frazie #babyfaced 18-yo raz is so funny to me. why are you making him experience the horrors he's literally just a little guy #ask #ALSO your pets are all wonderful. please give them kisses from me

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smokedruid · 2 days

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Come On, Cowgirl (the ghoul x lucy maclean) part 1

word count: 2.6k

after the events of season 1's finale, lucy and the ghoul embark to find lucy's father and finally get some answers (as well as maybe a bit of revenge). on the journey, they find they have more in common than either might have imagined.

"Don't Meet Your Heroes"

The Ghoul didn’t speak a word for more than half a day before Lucy couldn’t take it anymore.

At first, his silence felt like a gift - the first kind thing he’d done for her. It gave her a chance to pick apart all of the things she could and should have said to her Dad before he flew unceremoniously away in that stupid suit.

God, how had she been so blind?

Coming to the surface had meant discovering that everything she’d ever known, the foundation she built her whole life on, was a lie. That much would have broken anyone else from 33 - but Lucy would be different. She may have lost her finger, probably her health, and most of her dignity, but she had her father, and she was determined that once he was freed, he would make things make sense again.

Right. That had worked out well.

After those first few hours of silence, she started catching sideways glances from under the Ghoul’s tattered hat. His eyebrows were lowered and cast a shadow over his sunken eyes - well, they would, if he had any - but he never looked longer than a moment. They’d crossed the ridge of the mountains by now and the settlement where she’d left Max - who was hopefully conscious, by now - had vanished over the horizon.

“Surface trained the chatterbox outta you, huh?” he finally spoke after her knees had started aching from the downhill climb. Despite feeling moreover glad that he wasn’t looking at her anymore, this sparked a hot irritation in her gut.

“What would you do if your mom was a ghoul and your dad turned out to be a megalomaniac?” she retorted hotly, then instantly felt sorry. He didn’t turn around to look at her - he hadn’t even when he first spoke.

“I din’t turn into this by sittin’ on my ass and drinkin’ lemonade, you know,” he replied, and again, his head twitched, but he didn’t look all the way around. Shame blossomed into a warm pool at the base of her chest and she bit the inside of her lip guiltily.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” she replied softly and a grunt answered from ahead of her. She wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a word lost behind his yellowed teeth.

After a long moment: “You knew my dad.”

At this, he slowed down, allowing her to catch up to him - something she could have done if she really wanted, but was now forced to. He stopped for a moment to examine her, his mouth working like he was chewing imaginary tobacco. Maybe he really was chewing tobacco. She wasn’t sure.

“Yeah,” he nodded. He turned that word into a three-syllable affair. Ye-a-wh. Nobody had accents like that in the vaults. In movies, maybe, but not thick as his. Everything he said was muddled. “I’m guessin’ this’sall new information for you.” he turned away again to keep walking, but this time she kept pace at his shoulder. Well, below his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she echoed dully. “I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.” he rested a hand on his holster and she flinched back before he turned a bemused eye on her.

“Ain’t gunna hurtcha. Not now, anyway, that wouln’t do me much good.” he took the shotgun from his side and dropped empty casings to the ground to reload it absently.

“Well that’s good to know,” she replied flatly, but he made no sign he’d heard her.

“Wha’d you do with your daddy down in the vaults, hm? Play catch with jello moulds or sum shit?” he was clearly joking, but a heat was creeping up her throat and making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. She shook her head, even though he wasn’t looking.

“No. I helped him with work, sometimes. We walked. Watched movies,” Lucy hated that he could hear the thickness in her voice, the first hints of tears, even if she wouldn’t let them fall. It had been a rhetorical question anyway. He re-holstered his gun with a snort.

“Walked where? In circles?” he looked up and Lucy quickly turned her face away, feigning interest in the barren waste to her right. “Movies,” he repeated, and she got the feeling he’d caught a glimpse of her flushed face. Was this really better than being waterboarded for bait?

“He liked westerns. So that’s what we watched,” she shrugged, not sure why she was entertaining this conversation when the silence had been so peaceful by comparison.

When she felt composed enough to turn back around, his bare eyebrows had raised, elongating his red, fleshless face.

“Westerns, huh?” one end of his mouth was pulling up as if by an invisible fish hook.

Lucy thought the word ‘smile’ was a little generous in describing whatever his mouth was doing. Not quite a smirk. Not genuine enough to be a smile. She nodded, surprised at his interest. She didn’t know how old he was exactly, but probably old enough to have been to a movie theater, she realized.

“Big cowboy fan. I r’member that about him.” the sentence almost made Lucy flinch.

It seemed impossible to imagine her dad outside of a vault, let alone alive before they ever existed. With him. One thought led to another, and before she realized what she was doing, her eyes were tracing the Ghoul’s jagged profile and trying to imagine hair, skin, a nose. She only had to squint a little to achieve the illusion of skin, but frankly, picturing him with a nose seemed incorrect.

“I got sum’n on my face?” he asked before Lucy could realize he’d caught her eye.

“No. No. Sorry,” she fixed her eyes to the powdery dirt under them. He let out what Lucy thought might be a chuckle, but it quickly turned into a dry, wheezing cough. “Did you like westerns too?” she asked the ground, hoping to steer the conversation away from touchier topics - for both of them. He laughed again.

“Feo, fuerte y formal,” he gave her a wry side glance and she felt herself smile before she could stop it. God, her dad had loved that movie so much - she must have seen it a dozen times, at least. Fallen asleep to it a dozen more.

“You are a fan!” the lightness returning to her face and voice made her feel more like herself than she had in several days. Instead of the exasperation that he’d met her with before, he seemed amused. Maybe still in a slightly derogatory way, but Lucy decided this was better than being waterboarded.

“Doesn’t take a fan to know that line. Couldn’t walk into a theatre without that movie hitt'n you in the nose.” this confirmed Lucy’s suspicion that he had been to a movie theater. She tried not to be a little jealous. And not to imagine him with a nose again. In a theatre. With his wife.

He’d said he had a wife, right? That conversation was a blur that ended with the single clear picture of her father leaving.

“I, well,” Lucy began, her talkative nature kicking back in without help. “I used to have a big crush on one of those actors, when I was younger.” This caught his attention more than she’d expected. He turned his whole head to shoot her an amused stare.

“Really, now? I pit’ured you with some button up prairie boy, but you like an outlaw, don’tcha, sweetheart?” he was needling her now, provoking her, but she couldn’t help but earnestly respond.

“No, no, the good guys,” she insisted, to his greater entertainment. She knew he was making fun of her on some level, but couldn’t bring herself to be truly irritated. “You know, the heroes.” he nodded back slowly.

He was definitely making fun of her.

“Lemme guess… Fred Larson,” he mocked hitting a button like one of those old game show contestants. “Real prim and proper, just like you.” For some reason, this made her cheeks glow again and she shook her head, still smiling.

She wasn’t sure why she was smiling except for the fact that it felt so good. Like it was the only way to crack off the hard exterior these last few weeks had caked onto her. He said he wasn’t going to hurt her, and right now, she believed him. So she was smiling.

“No- that one actor, from that movie- Cooper… Cooper Howard!” she struggled to remember his last name. Sitting on a couch, sitting down to watch a movie, god, that felt like another lifetime. It was hard to imagine being that carefree again.

When she looked back up at him, he wasn’t smiling anymore, so she stopped too. “Feo fuerte y formal. You know,” she repeated stupidly, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Not my fav’rite,” he shrugged, and she frowned. Hadn’t he just quoted that same movie?

“Too heroic for you?” She tried to tease, but his eyes turned sharp and she fell quiet again. Something she’d said had irritated him, and she flipped back through the conversation, but he was as unpredictable as fire. Whatever it was, all she could do was try not to say it again… somehow. “Who did you like, then?” she tried to redirect, but he seemed to have lost the appetite for conversation.

“‘S been a long time.” he replied indifferently, so Lucy let their walk return to silence. They continued that way until sundown.

Lucy didn’t know if the Ghoul slept, but she certainly needed to. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him exhaust himself once that first time he’d kidnapped her. Probably all of those drugs.

“Can we stop here?” she finally asked faintly, holding a stitch in her side. Maximus was certainly larger than her, but the Ghoul was taller. Longer legs, longer strides - more effort to keep up with his normal pace. Max had also slowed down for Lucy. The Ghoul didn’t slow down for anything.

He turned to look back at her like he’d forgotten she was there.

“‘Lrght,” he grunted back.

They’d stopped close enough to some wreckage that would make for decent cover, despite being half buried in sand and dust. You couldn’t find much untouched by sand or dust up here, Lucy had learned.

The Ghoul, as she’d predicted, didn’t show signs of sleeping. If he did, she doubted he’d ever fall asleep first anyway. He slid down against a wall and drew out a wad of cigarettes from his coat before lighting one. Another appeared before her as she laid her bag out like a pillow on the floor. An offer. She wrinkled her nose.

“No thanks,” she replied, and they disappeared back into his trenchcoat.

“Suityrself,” he shrugged, taking a long, satisfied draw of smoke and releasing it in lazy curls. Whatever had happened earlier had closed him off, and he was still just as reserved.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, knowing that best case scenario, he'd just laugh at her. Granted, she had learned her interpersonal management skills from books, but still.

“Nope,” he replied, not looking up at her from the twisting smoke between his fingers. His hat was low over his eyes, so all she could see of him in the dark was the pulsing glow of the lit cigarette.

“Okay…” she replied, unconvinced. She couldn’t gauge what his ‘normal’ was. Nothing about him was normal. “If it was about the movies-” she began, unable to stop herself. The interpersonal management guides always urged you to fix a conflict before putting it down, and clearly, it had trained her well.

“Wha’d I tell you?” he tilted his head up just enough for the embers to illuminate the bottom half of his face. It almost looked normal in the dim light, where you couldn’t tell his nose was nothing but a cavity, and his skin merely looked blemished, instead of raw. “If y’re worried about this-” he nudged his shotgun with an elbow, but she hurriedly shook her head.

“I’m not. I just…” she couldn’t find a good enough reason.

I just can’t leave things well enough alone? Well, that was true at least. I have a stupid, inexplicable urge to make everyone like me, weirdly - especially - you? She definitely couldn’t say that… even if it were the truth too.

“...I thought you liked westerns,” she finished lamely. He snorted hard enough that it ruffled the clean spirals of smoke leaving his mouth.

“I watched ‘em. Never said I liked ‘em,” he replied simply.

Lucy had been so spoiled, she realized that now. When talking to people from the vault, their tendency was often to over-speak. If you stood still long enough in front of someone from 33, you’d probably walk away with their life story and entire known genealogy.

He was completely the opposite. Simple and blunt, just like his features. Nothing about him was accommodating. Not his stride, not his words, not even his stupid face. She scolded herself inwardly - his face wasn’t stupid. Even if it was, she wouldn’t say something like that.

“Is it… you don’t like Cooper Howard?” Lucy had told herself that whatever button she’d pressed, she wouldn’t press again. This conversation proved that she was failing that completely.

“It’s no wonder you’re such a good girl,” he replied with a lazy sort of meanness. “All those movies fillin’ your head with horseshit about fairness and fuckin’ apple pie.” she was surprised at his response and remained still, arms wrapped around her knees habitually.

“Well, it’s good to have a role model, isn’t it?” she replied weakly and he grunted out a laugh. Half of his communication came in grunts.

“Not up here, sweetheart. When y’re busy chasin fuckin’ fairytales, you can't see when you're about to catch a bullet in your head.” he never seemed to get angry. Irritated, yes. Mean, yes. But after so long, nothing seemed to really ruffle him.

Again, probably the drugs, She reminded herself.

“Well, sorry,” she bit back, the words coming out more pathetically than she was intending. “I just thought we finally had something in common.”

A long silence followed this before a deep sigh. When he inhaled on the cigarette, and the embers burned brighter, she saw he was frowning.

The conversation was over. She turned over to rest her head on her bag.

“C’mere,” a low murmur came from behind her, and she glanced back over her shoulder. The light had completely dwindled now, and the only hint anyone was there was the small circle of light and its trail of smoke.

“What?” She replied hoarsely, her face growing oddly warm.

“C’mere,” he repeated, and raised his canteen to his face so his cigarette would reflect on the metal. She understood now, and shuffled forward, not looking to turn him down. Especially not after whatever had just happened. It had felt like an argument, but she didn’t have the faintest clue what they’d been arguing about.

He waited until her knees were nearly brushing his boots and she was all but inhaling his secondhand smoke to lean forward and motion for her to open her mouth. When she didn’t see it the first time, he brushed her chin with a gloved knuckle and she opened it obediently.

She was too obedient, always.

She tilted her head back and let the warm, metallic water fall into her mouth. It tasted awful, of course, but after several dry days, it was heaven in a bottle. He indulged her for slightly too long before retracting the canteen, forcing her to remember herself.

She closed her mouth hurriedly, feeling exposed so close to him in the dark and crawled back to her spot on the sandy floor.

She watched the glow flicker on the wall while he smoked his cigarette dead, and by the time the light had faded, Lucy was asleep.

AN: this will probably be 4 or 5 parts so look forward to those soon! this is also on ao3 under my same user :]

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fanfic-obsessed · 2 days

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Anakin Faces Consequences

Thank you @killjoypolitics for the submission

I love all your ideas! I was wondering if you had any ideas for a fix-it where the Jedi or Clones (somehow) prevent Order 66 from happening but Anakin still falls. How do you think the Jedi/Senate/public would respond to his attempted murder of the Jedi? Or the marriage? Or the murder of the Sand People? I’m just so curious as to how you think people would handle it! Do you think Anakin would be able to admit he was wrong and try and make up for what he did?

Hmm those are some intriguing questions. Reading them did give me some immediate ideas. Let’s explore them.

I think, for this to work, we need to shift some behind the scenes for the Clone Wars. To start with Anakin’s…let's call them his less than stellar command decisions is noticed and noted, even if no one can do anything about them (because he is technically not doing anything wrong). It damages the trust the Clones, other Jedi, and even his own Padawan have in him. These decisions include but are not limited to: Spending Clone lives to collect R2D2 (whose memory-properly wiped of sensitive information- is backed up to the central Jedi Temple databanks and had outright stated that it had no attachment to its current body), Anakin’s focus on Padme during the Blue Shadow virus, and his reaction to the Rako Hardeen arc (he was literally the only person in Obi Wan’s life to react poorly to finding out Obi Wan went undercover and faked his death, everyone else got Opspec).

So by the time of the Wrong Jedi arc, no one is actually trusting Anakin with any more information than they absolutely need to. He kind of doesn’t notice because he wasn’t paying that much attention in the first place. When the Senate demands Padawan Ahsoka Tano for the temple bombing, the Council calls her in to see them, without Anakin, and ‘We know you are innocent, we know this is a trap of some kind, would you be willing to go along to spring the trap and hopefully find who is framing you’ and Ahoska, being partially trained by Obi Wan, agrees.

No one tells Anakin. At the end of the Arc, Ahsoka agrees to continue undercover (as having left the Jedi) and working with the Shadows to figure out what is going on. So Ahsoka ‘leaves’ the Jedi, Anakin none the wiser. She also starts working much more closely with the Coruscant Guard (who had been aware that she was innocent and going along with things to spring the trap).

This brings us to where Fives finds out about the chips, reports to Rex and Anakin, then is ‘killed’ (his death was faked and he was sent to join Ahsoka). Anakin suppresses the report because he does not believe that his friend Palpatine could do anything like that. He orders Rex to ignore the report as well, specifically not to bring it up to the Jedi Council. But he does it in a way that still implies Anakin will be bringing it up to the appropriate authorities. Rex does not trust Anakin, particularly not with anything that would make Palpatine look bad. However if Rex did an end run and went directly to the Jedi Council, it would be very obvious. So instead Rex reached out to Ahsoka with Fives report.

Ahsoka, now working with the Shadows, gets the report and they are able to investigate the chips. Though they cannot remove them, for fear that the wrong person will find out too early and activate the rest, they are able to quickly find and manufacture a way to neutralize the control portion of the chips.

This brings us up to ROTS. To Order 66 and Anakin’s fall. Anakin leads the march on the temple, and the 501st follow along (not sure where he was going with this), until Anakin strikes down a temple guard while ordering them to open fire. Had it been almost any other Battalion with almost any other Jedi, the Fallen Jedi would have been able to kill many more before he could be stopped. But the 501st learned some difficult lessons from Pong Krell and Anakin was not gnarly as trusted as he thought. Anakin is stunned.

Palpatine’s Empire as announced but without the control chips to make the clones kill the Jedi, Palpatine’s Empire lasts 3 days which end with Palpatine’s death. It takes another two weeks for everything to calm down enough to bring Anakin forward to face what he had done.

Palpatine’s former supporters, the ones that are not outed and ousted during the transformation from Republic to Empire and back, flock to Anakin as the wronged party. Their spin is that Anakin was moving to protect the legal head of the government from an insurrection in the form of the Jedi.

It gained no traction, because even though Palpatine’s Empire lasted 3 days, it was still enough to see how many of these people would react. Frankly, there were more than a few of those supporters (beings like Tarkin) whose support of Anakin did more harm to the cause than good.

For many of the Jedi, Anakin’s actions didn’t really rate notice. Not above the horror of the chips, both from the view of ‘all of us would have died’ and ‘the clones would have been forced to kill us’. Throughout the war Anakin had, mostly unconsciously, been distancing himself from the Jedi. A distance which grew as they realized he could not really be trusted.

For most there was sadness, of course, as more of his actions from the war and just before are revealed. But it was the sadness of an old friend going down the wrong path, not the betrayal of current family trying to hurt them. Finding out Anakin had betrayed his oaths by marrying Padme and had committed murder was just one more thing that had happened.

The public reaction was mixed. Many bought into ‘The Hero with No Fear’ mythos and could not believe he would attack the Jedi without reason, even after he admitted that his reason was Padme not anything the Jedi had done. The scandal of it, though, keeps it in the public eye. And it is a seemingly unending well of scandal for Anakin, Padme, and any number of their supporters. Not the least of which is the news that Anakin murdered the Tuskans, but Padme’s forgiving him for it was legally binding (As she was acting as a Senator) so he could never be prosecuted for the murders, even if Tatooine and the Tuskens could make an official complaint about his behavior. That Anakin then married Padme made it even worse.

I think, for Anakin himself, if he gets to the point of falling he would not be willing to admit he had done anything wrong. He seems like the kind of person who would double down and insist that he was right for his decisions.

#submission #star wars #I love answering questions #star wars the clone wars #fix it au

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loulouwrites · 2 days

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HELLISH . AFLIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's secretary makes the decision to marry, it's a shame her prospective husbands seem to disappear after one meeting warnings: angst, violence, swearing, jealousy, threats, borderline stalking honestly, muderous thoughts, unedited, unrequited love word count: 3.5k a/n: i've been away for a while bc life is hard. i wanted to write a little alfie story not related to the 'home series' and came up with whatever this is so i hope you enjoy. i'm working on a taglist, so if you would like to be included, lmk <3 also lmk if you'd like a part 2 to this, i've already cooked something up!

She had known Alfie Solomons for about three years, and they had been friends since they had met.

Two years into their strange friendship, she had been sacked from her job as a secretary for an Italian businessman, he didn't say why he suddenly decided he didn't require her services, but they both knew. Tensions were rising between the Jewish quarter and Italian quarter in Camden, and everybody was sticking to their own side of town.

When she had told Alfie about it, he had offered her a job immediately - the rising tensions were partly his fault anyways.

Her mother had not been happy when her daughter came home with news she would be working for Alfie Solomons, but when she saw the stack of notes Mr Solomons had given as a 'pay advance', she warmed to the idea.

It was easy work. He had his men for the nitty-gritty stuff, she merely typed up Alfie's ramblings and sent threatening telegrams to people - it was easier than any legitimate job she had ever had, and it paid better, too.

She would often have lunch with Ollie, Alfie's second in command if you wanted to call him that. She was allowed a longer lunch than he was, Ollie wasn't supposed to have a lunch break at all, but if she were talking to him, it was rare they would be interrupted, unless there was an urgent matter to attend to.

Ollie was a good gossip, better than any of the other men in the bakery, Alfie excluded. But, unlike Alfie, Ollie had no interest in her, sexually or romantically, so she enjoyed the time she could spend talking to him, discussing rumours or chatting about their lives outside of work without it turning into something else within minutes.

"Do you think he'll let me leave an hour early?" She asked from where she was perched on the man's desk, swinging her feet back and forth.

"He'd let you leave now if you asked," Ollie replied, rolling his eyes at the girl. It was true, Alfie would probably still pay her if she didn't show up, he'd let her release a group of pigs in his office if she wanted to.

"He's in a mood, though."

"He's always in a mood."

"Not as bad as this," she pointed to their boss' office, where the blinds were pulled up, showing his figure stomping around the small room, throwing pieces of paper and trinkets onto the ground.

"Fuck," she sighed as a loud crash was heard, though they couldn't see what had bared the brunt of the man's rage from their seats.

"Maybe reschedule?" Ollie offered, his eyes not leaving the glass window of Alfie's office.

"I'm just going to ask him," she planted her feet on the ground, ignoring Ollie's protests. "The worst he can do is say no," she shrugged, walking towards the office door.

"That is not the worst he can do," he called after her in an urgent whisper.

She didn't knock when she entered, she never had, and she wasn't about to start now.

A book flew past her face when she stepped inside, and she quickly stepped to the side, it hitting the wall behind her and falling to the floor.

"What did...that Russian book ever do to you?" She asked, and his head snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide.

"Shit, sorry 'bout that, love," he sighed, wiping a hand over his face but she waved him off, moving to sit in one of the chairs at his desk.

"Bad day?"

"Better now," he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. "What do you want?"

"I want to leave an hour early," she offered him a wary smile, clasping her hands together pleadingly.

"You fuckin' what?"

"Please, Alfie-" she started, but he was up from his seat before she could finish her sentence, pacing up and down the cramped office with his hands on his hips. "It's only an hour, and I'm not doing anything anyway."

"You're not doing anything?" his eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "You're really admitting that to your boss?"

"Please, Alfie," she stood up, taking a few steps towards him. "I never ask you for anything."

She scowled at the obnoxious laugh he let out in response.

"Never ask me for anything?" his voice raised an octave to mock her. "A pay advance that you still haven't paid back," he help up a finger as he counted. "A weekday off so you can go shopping when it's less crowded, a bonus so you can get your mum a birthday present, a day off when your fucking cat died," he stepped towards her. "Asking me to come to it's fucking funeral."

"You said it was a lovely service," she placed a hand on her chest in offense.

"You know what?" he sighed, rubbing a hand up and down his face. "Just fuck off, yeah?"

"Really?" She smiled, clapping her hands.

"But you will come in an hour early tomorrow to make up for it, or so help me God, I will come to your house and drag you here myself."

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.

"Thank you, Alfie." She reached to place a kiss on his cheek, not taking offense when he reached to wipe his cheek when she pulled away, already opening the door to leave. "I'll see you bright an early tomorrow."

She couldn't make out what he grumbled after her.

Alfie waited until she had left the bakery to slink out of his office, approaching Ollie's desk, and tapping on it with his knuckles.

"Why'd she want to leave early?" he asked his assistant, not missing the way the younger man sunk down in his seat.

"I don't want to tell you," Ollie replied, sheepishly.

"Ollie," Alfie warned.

"She's meeting up with someone?"

"Ollie."

"A man. She's meeting up with a man, her mum's friend's son or something. Think she's looking to settle down, you know?"

Alfie hummed, a hand coming up to rub his beard. "Interesting," he mumbled, walking back to his office, landing a smack to Ollie's head as he passed.

Her suitor had been a perfect gentleman. Jacob had taken her to a fancy club in a nicer part of London, had bought her dinner and drinks without grumbling about the prices, and had dropped her off at home with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to take her out again the following weekend.

She hadn't thought a man her mother had set her up with would be particularly charming, but she had been proven wrong, the stupid smile she wore on her face all week being proof of that.

She had been thinking of settling down for a while. All of her childhood friends were married with several children at this point, and she didn't miss the sympathetic looks they would give her when she told them she was still unmarried, still childless, and still working.

Marriage was always something she thought would come naturally -as it seemed to do with everyone else around her - but years rolled by and she was still no closer to the life that had seemed so easily achievable when she was young. So, she had decided to take matters in her own hands, informing her mother and everyone else she could that she was ready to marry, and asking them to let her know if they knew a boy they thought would be a good match.

And, she thought she had found the good match on her first try, but when the week after her date rolled on, and there was no word from Jacob, she realised how stupid she had been.

She had been moodier than ever that week, stomping around the bakery with a scowl on her face, smacking the keys of her typewriter harder than necessary, and barely speaking two words to whoever approached her.

She was not dealing with the rejection well.

So, when a handsome worker - who she recalled was named James -- passed her desk, offering a confident smile as he did, she wasted no time.

She wandered into Alfie's office with her hands clasped behind her back, swaying slightly as she waited for him to look up from the papers on his desk.

"What?" He asked, still reading the scribbles on the page.

"Didn't know you'd taken new people on," she shrugged nonchalantly, keeping her tone light and unbothered.

"And? What about it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged again, stepping further into his office. "Just a lot of new faces around here,"

Alfie groaned, dropping the papers from his hand and removing the glasses he wore from his face. "Since when do you care about new faces?"

"I don't," she laughed defensively. "I was just wondering about one of them, is all."

"You were just wondering about one of them," Alfie's eyebrows rose, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "What were you wondering about?"

"I mean...maybe some background..."

"Like what? His favourite fucking book? The fuck you expect me to know?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," she held her hands up in defense, and her boss' eyes squinted at her words.

"I thought you were already seein' someone, that is why you left early a couple weeks ago, ain't it?"

"Who the fuck told you that?"

"Don't matter," Alfie offered her a smile. "Didn't work out or something..."

"No, it didn't," she huffed. "So...about James..." she trailed off, waiting for Alfie to step in, but he merely offered her a blank look. "Alfie," she whined, stomping her foot against the floor."

"Don't know 'im. Sorry, love," he waved a hand dismissively.

"Fine," she spun on her heel, storming out of his office. "I'll find out myself."

James was lovely. She had 'bumped' into him when she was leaving, and it hadn't taken him long to offer to take her out for drinks when he finished his shift, which she had accepted with a grateful smile.

He had met her outside of the local pub near the 'bakery', it wasn't a particularly nice establishment, but the lager was cheap, and she supposed he didn't have the money to spend in a fancy club like Jacob had - not with the pittance she was sure Alfie was paying him.

He was funny, and quite respectful in comparison with some of his colleagues. He had asked her questions about her interests, had shared his own, and she was delighted that they seemed to have quite a bit in common.

They had ended the night at her door, with chaste kiss, and another promise to go out again the following week, and she had closed the door with a grin on her face.

"See you at work tomorrow," he had said as he walked away.

When she arrived to work the next morning, the same grin still on her face, she couldn't stop her eyes scanning the floor as she walked to her desk, desperately trying to seek out James, but, when she couldn't find him, she had shrugged it off.

Maybe he was ill or something.

It was now Thursday. Her date with James had been on Monday, and there had been no sign of him ever since.

It was hard not wonder, had something bad happed to him? Had he been hiding every time he saw her walking through the distillery? Had he been so repulsed by her that he had quit his job just to avoid seeing her again?

The thoughts had consumed her all week, and they had affected her mood significantly. Unlike with Jacob, where she had been an angry force at work, she was now forlorn, barely speaking to anybody, and zoning out of conversations with a vacant look on her face.

It was starting to worry her boss, who spent longer than appropriate watching her from his office window.

He had called her into the office that afternoon, watching as she walked seemingly in a daze, her eyes were duller, and he face appeared more sunken.

She didn't say anything when she took a seat at his desk, nor did she meet his eyes when he said her name.

"You alright?" he had asked, his tone more concerned than he wanted it to be.

"Wonderful," she replied, her voice flat, fiddling with a thread on her skirt.

"You've been wandering 'round like a ghost for the past week, love. What's goin' on with ya? Please don't tell me another fucking cat died."

She huffed a laugh that was clearly fake, still fiddling with the thread when she responded. "I think I'm unmarriable, Alfie."

Alfie's shoulder's straightened at her words, leaning his arms on his desk, he studied her face, watching as she blinked away the tears that were beginning to pool in her eyes. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Two men in two weeks, Alfie. I have gone out with two men in two weeks and they have both disappeared...literally disappeared, I haven't seen them since."

Her eyes lifted from her dress to meet his, and Alfie was struck by how sad she looked. He had never thought she would be this upset by a couple of boys not getting back to her after one night.

"That's silly, love," he sighed. "It don't mean nothin'"

"Yeah," she scoffed, "it does."

He considered telling her in that moment, he truly did. A better man would have, would have confessed right then and there.

A better man would have told her that they had cornered Jacob after he had dropped her off at her door. How he had almost certainly broken the young man's nose before he had a chance to blink, how he had had his men hold the boy by the shoulders while he whispered a warning in his ear.

"Stay away from her."

He really should have told her that he had turned up at James' shitty flat on Monday night, waiting for the man to return from his date with her. That his worker's body had began to shake when he saw his boss leaning against his front door, his arms crossed against his chest and a cold look in his eye.

"Have to let you go, son," Alfie had said. "A worker that is more concerned about fucking my secretary isn't one I want workin' with me."

James had begun to splutter a reply, but Alfie was already heading for the stairs.

"Best you stay away from her, yeah?"

It hadn't been a question.

He really should have told her, but he didn't. Instead, he had sighed and rose from his seat, moving into the empty chair beside her.

"You ain't unmarriable, woman," he told her, patting her shoulder. "You just chose two fuckin' idiots."

"Whatever you say, Alfie," she said, standing up and walking out of the office without another word.

He should have confessed, but he didn't. He did, however, promise himself he would not get involved in her personal life anymore. The next man she met, would not have to face a threat from Alfie Solomons.

She had been leaving her home to go to work when she had ran into Elijah on the street. He had chased after her, holding an envelope in his hands, waving it frantically when she finally turned around when she heard the stranger's voice calling after her.

"I think you dropped this," he handed her the envelope, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she took it from his hands.

"Oh, thank you," she laughed. "My boss would have murdered me if I lost it."

He had laughed at her words, not realising she wasn't exactly joking about her boss.

"I'm Elijah," he held out a hand, which she took with a smile.

"He's really nice, Ollie," her words were muffled as they travelled into Alfie's office, and he had to press his ear closer to the door to be able to hear her clearly. "A real gentleman."

'A real gentleman.'

Alfie rolled his eyes, 'gentleman' was just another word for a soft prick.

"We're going out again tonight," she told her friend. "Said he has a surprise for me."

"What do you think it is?" Ollie asked her, and Alfie rolled his eyes again. Ollie was worse than a fucking twelve year old girl.

"I mean we've been seeing each other for a while, he's met my family, I've met his..." she trailed off, and Ollie's gasp was clear as day from where Alfie was standing.

"You think he's going to propose?"

And just like that, Alfie's heart dropped to his stomach. He tore his ear from the wall, storming back to his desk, dropping to the seat with a heavy thud.

Of course Elijah was going to propose, of fucking course. She had been seeing him for the better part of four months, and she spent every waking minute talking about the nice doctor, it was natural that his was how it was going to progress.

He regretted not cornering Elijah on is way to work the moment she had mentioned his name, regretted not giving him the same treatment he gave the two men that came before him. He should have, should have twisted the man's arm behind his back until he was crying like a little girl, should have had his men hold him down while he kicked him in his ribs until blood came out of his mouth, he should have put the barrel of his gun to his head an pulled the trigger.

But to what end?

She was a good girl. She wanted to get married, have a few children and take care of the house while her husband was at work.

Alfie couldn't offer her that.

Everything he could offer her, he already had. He had given her protection, a stable income, and some form of friendship. He could never give her what she truly craved. He knew that, no matter his feelings for her - feelings he didn't understand himself - he couldn't give her the life she deserved.

And that thought made him sick.

The room was too hot for him to sit in any longer. Alfie pushed through the crowd of people, shoving them harder than necessary until he reached the door, the sound of music and laughter fading as the heavy door closed behind him.

He took a seat on a damp wooden bench, his head dropping in his hands.

It had been a lovely ceremony, a bit small, and a bit cheap for his tastes, but she had managed to make it lovely anyways.

He stood when she entered, her parents on either side of her, walking her to the end of the aisle.

She didn't spare Alfie a glance, too busy looking ahead - looking at him. The bitterness twisted in his stomach and it took all the self control he possessed to keep a neutral look on his face.

Elijah met her at the end of the aisle, taking her hand and helping her up the little steps, a sickening smile on his face.

Alfie didn't miss the sympathetic glance Ollie, who was beside him, threw him.

"Not enjoying the party?" her voice was as sweet as anything, full of happiness.

"Weddings ain't really my thing, love," he offered her a smile, it dropping as quickly as it came.

"But this isn't just any wedding, Alfie," she said, taking a seat next to him. "It's mine, you should be happy."

"Why is that?"

"You've finally gotten rid of me," she laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers. "You don't have to pay me to sit around and do nothing all day, should save you a bit of money."

Alfie didn't laugh with her, a bitter smile on his face as he looked down at his hands.

"Oh don't tell me you're sad about me leaving?" her voice held nothing but humour and Alfie wanted to scream at her.

How can you be so blind?

Can't you see I love you?

"Nah, I'm just upset it took this long," he said eventually, rising from his seat, patting her on the shoulder as did. "I'm gonna head out, but congratulations, love. You look very beautiful."

Her eyes softened at his words, her smile widening from where she was sat, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling.

He didn't have time to react when she shot up from her seat, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to her.

"You're the best friend I could have asked for, Alfie," she whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, pulling her arms away from his shoulders and taking a step back. "Fuck off, now. You're missing your own wedding you stupid woman."

She laughed, nodding her head and disappearing back into the building before Alfie could blink, leaving him frozen in place, the bitterness that once consumed him being replaced by what felt like an all-encompassing sadness.

'The best friend I could have asked for."

What a fucking joke that was.

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